


You're My Lover, Not My Rival

by ChrisLeon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hockey, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Injuries, Slow Burn, and my personal fake NHL team, but no real players make any appearances, professional sports-typical homophobia, real NHL teams, various OCs as plot devices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23550487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisLeon/pseuds/ChrisLeon
Summary: Billy Hargrove is traded from the LA Kings to the Indiana Wraiths during the off season. This is bad news for Steve Harrington who now has to play with someone he can't stand. In the name of team chemistry, Steve tries to play nice, but that's easier said than done when Hargrove seems to go out of his way to make Steve dislike him even more. But that's fine, they don't have to be friends, they just have to play together. And it's just hockey, nothing personal. Right?aka the modern-day NHL AU that absolutely no one asked for, but that I wrote anyway.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 233





	1. Chapter 1

Steve found out through a tweet.

**_@nhl_updates_ **

_ LA Kings trade forward Billy Hargrove and 2020 2nd round pick to Indiana Wraiths in exchange for defender Tom Haber, a 2020 3rd round pick and 2021 2nd round pick _

The phone fell from his hands and clattered to the table. In a few weeks, training camp would start and Billy Hargrove would be there.  _ Billy Hargrove. _

And the worst part was, the trade made sense. He knew what the analysts had said last season. The Wraiths were a good team, but they didn’t have enough muscle. They needed guys who weren’t afraid to get a little dirty, throw hits, and drop gloves if it came to it. It wasn’t a surprise that management had been looking for someone to play that role. But  _ Hargrove? _ There had to be other options.

Steve took a deep breath. He shouldn’t take it personally, trades happened all the time in professional sports and it’s not like Hargrove had anything personal against him. At least, that was unlikely. It was hockey, shit happened, people got hurt, it wasn’t personal. But, that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

He sighed and slumped forward in his seat. He picked his phone back up and took a screenshot of the tweet and sent it to Robin and Nancy, assuming that if he’d only just heard the news, they probably had no idea.

The read notification popped up on his message and was followed almost immediately by an incoming FaceTime call from Nancy. He briefly considered not answering, but he knew from experience that she’d just call again, especially considering he’d texted her first. Bracing himself, he answered the call. 

Nancy’s face materialized on screen. The connection wasn’t great, she was probably out somewhere, but even pixelated, he could read the worry in her expression.

“Hey, Nance,” he said, trying to be casual.

“Steve, did you just find out?”

He looked down at the table, picking at a chip in the varnish, “Yeah, I just saw the tweet right now. No one told me beforehand. I know they don’t have to, but,” he sighed again, frustrated.

“It would have been nice to know,” she finished for him.

“Yeah, it would have been,” he let out a humorless chuckle. “It’ll be fine though, right? I mean, this happens all the time. And it’s not like I have to be best friends with the guy, I just have to play with him.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Even if the guy’s a real jackass, he’d have to be really stupid too to start problems with his own teammate.”

Steve nodded, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“So, any other off-season news?” 

He shook his head, “Nothing else exciting. My trainer is trying to kill me, but that’s not unusual. The meal plan still sucks and helmet hair is still the worst.”

She laughed, “To this day I still can’t believe you chose a sport that requires a helmet. With all the work you put into your hair.”

“That’s what all the off-ice stuff is for. Interviews, promotional stuff, I have more than enough time to show off my best feature. Someone’s gotta have the best flow in the game.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ha, maybe. Anyways, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing well. I’m a little nervous about this upcoming semester, I have a really important interview coming up. Jon keeps telling me not to worry, but I just want it to go well.”

“C’mon, Nance, when have you ever not excelled at something? You’re gonna do great, I know it.”

“When are you in New York?” she asked, “we’d love to see you.”

He thought back to his schedule, trying to remember, “I think we’re playing the Rangers some time in early December. I’ll double check and see if I can get you guys tickets. Hopefully I’ll have some free time.”

“That’d be great, I can’t wait.” A loud noise suddenly roared out of his speakers from somewhere near her, “My train’s here,” she said, “I have to go, but I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, Nance, talk to you later, tell Jon I say hi.”

“I will, bye Steve.”

“Bye.”

The call ended and he was returned back to their message thread. As he watched, another message appeared at the top of his screen, this one from Robin, reading:

_ O shit whatre you gonna do?? _

He clicked on the message, but hesitated to type a response. What  _ was  _ he going to do? He knew he’d just told Nancy that it’d be fine, but he wasn’t actually sure he believed that. Could he really act like everything was fine? Like he wasn’t mad?

_ I dont fuckin know _

Billy Hargrove was now an Indiana Wraith and Steve had no idea what to do about it.

  
  
  
  


Steve collapsed on his couch, legs feeling like jello beneath him. He knew he needed to be in shape for camp, but he still felt like his trainer was trying to kill him. He’d been in the gym all morning and now, after a long, hot shower, he just wanted to huddle up in his sweatshirt and vegetate on the couch. 

Unfortunately, just as he got comfortable, his phone started ringing.

He let out a loud groan before fishing it out of his pocket. “Hello?”

“Steve!” Dustin’s loud voice bombarded him from the tiny speaker.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” he said, trying to mask his annoyance. He just wanted to rest.

“What’s up? Steve, I just got back to civilization after weeks living off the grid and that’s all you can ask me? I’m disappointed.”

“Really, Dustin? Living off the grid? Spending your summer climbing telephone poles or whatever-”

“I was not climbing telephone poles. I was interning for a company converting old AM broadcast towers into cell towers. We’ve been over this already, Steve. It’s impressive stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. Radios and cell phones, isn’t that like the definition of ‘the grid’?”

“Some of these towers are in really remote locations. And cell phones don’t work there because there are no antennas. That’s why we were there, Steve. C’mon, keep up. But now I’m back and we should celebrate my job well done.”

“Aren’t you going home?”

“Not yet. I told you, I literally just got back and I figured I’d stop by to see my good pal Steve before heading back to Hawkins.”

“Are you calling me from the airport? Have you even called your mom yet?”

“Of course I did. Now come on, the semester and the new season are both starting soon. We should enjoy these last few days of summer.”

“I’m not buying you alcohol.”

“C’mon, Steve!”

“No, man. Your mom would kill me. And besides, I’m supposed to be a good influence. A role model for the kids, y’know?”

“You’re on the fourth line, Steve. No one cares what you’re up to, they’re not looking for you to be a role model.”

“Hey! Plenty of people care about what I do.”

“Puck bunnies, maybe.”

“Okay, no. Please don’t. You’re a child, you shouldn’t even know what that is.”

“I’m 18, Steve, a legal adult. I can talk about whatever I want, I can vote, in fact, the only thing I can’t do is buy alcohol, but you can help with that and I really can’t see why you’re refusing. I knew you in highschool, Steve, don’t forget that. You didn’t exactly wait ‘til it was legal.”

“Ugh, if you promise to stop being annoying, you can come over and I’ll share whatever I have in the freezer. That sound good?”

“That sounds great. Now, if you could call me an Uber?”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, not all of us make professional athlete money.”

“I really hate you sometimes, you know that?” Even as he said it, he pulled the phone away from his ear and minimized the call to open his app. He punched in his address and waited for a driver to pick up the ride before bringing the phone back to his ear. 

He cut off Dustin in the middle of whatever he was saying, “It’s arriving in four mintues, asshole, be ready, I don’t want you messing up my rating.”

“Thanks, man. I knew you missed me.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you soon.” He hung up, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. As much as Dustin sometimes annoyed him, he had missed him and spending time with him was never boring.

A little while later, a message popped up on his phone simply saying  _ here _ , seconds before there was a loud knock at his door. He hauled himself up off the couch, dragging his stiff legs to the entryway. 

As soon as he opened the door, he was engulfed in a tight hug that forced the breath out of his lungs.

“Steve!” Dustin yelled, excitedly.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, returning the hug. After a second, Dustin let him go and Steve led the two of them into the apartment. “Help yourself to anything you want from the kitchen. It’s not much, we can order something if you’re hungry.”

Dustin made himself comfortable on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, “Pizza?” 

“My nutritionist won’t like it,” Steve said, dropping down next to him.

“That’s not a no.” 

“You’re right, it’s not,” Steve said, already picking up his phone to place the order. 

A few hours later found the two of them still sprawled out on the couch, the remnants of the pizza lay on the coffee table and a bad action movie neither of them were paying attention to was playing on the TV. They were both sipping on glasses of coke inexpertly mixed with a bottle of rum Steve had found half-empty in his freezer. Dustin was filling him in on everything that had happened over the summer. 

“And Suzie, man, she’s so pretty and so smart. And get this, she wants to come visit over winter break. Maybe you can meet her.”

“Of course, man.That sounds great. As long as I’m not on the road.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Any ladies in your life?” Dustin nudged him and raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

“No, man,” Steve said, shoving him back, “nothing serious. I’m not really looking right now.”

“Are you sure? Because I could definitely help you out if you wanted. You know, play wingman.”

Steve looked at him incredulously. “Seriously?”

“What? I think I’d be good at it.”

“No offense, man, but look at me,” Dustin snorted, but Steve didn’t let that interrupt him, “and I’m a professional athlete, okay? I can pick up any time I want, I just haven’t been in the mood.”

“If you say so, but you know where I’ll be if you change your mind.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said through a yawn. “Man, I’m tired. You can take the guest room if you want, but I have to get to bed.”

“Offseason training kicking your ass?”

“You know it.”

Steve slid to his feet, feeling his muscles protest the action. He glanced briefly at the pizza box before deciding it could be dealt with in the morning. 

“Guest room sounds good,” Dustin said, getting up to follow him, “do you have something I can borrow to sleep in?”

“Yeah c’mon.” He led Dustin shuffling down the hall where he threw an old pair of sweats at him before collapsing in his own bed, willing the mattress to absorb him and hopefully take away his soreness. 

  
  
  
  


The rest of August seemed to fly by and before he knew it, Steve was gearing up to take the ice for the first day of training camp. 

The first few days back were always a little strange. Offseason training, regardless of how intense it was, was never the same as getting back into the swing of regular practices. And of course, it was impossible to ignore all the faces missing from last season and the new ones that had been added over the summer. 

The Wraiths had made a few changes to their lineup during the off-season, but none had garnered quite as much attention as the addition of Billy Hargrove. The media was hounding them all for a soundbite and Steve especially had been targeted. He couldn’t blame them really, it was their job and everyone, the media, the fans, the analysts, all wanted to know how he felt about it, but even knowing that didn’t stop him from getting annoyed. 

Hargrove, of course, was also present at training camp. He’d arrived in the locker room and put on his gear just a few stalls down from Steve, all without so much as making eye contact.

He fit in with an ease that Steve couldn’t help but feel envious of. It’s not like Steve didn’t have any friends on the team, far from it, but Billy had settled into the locker room and began laughing and joking around with guys who’d been playing together on the Wraiths for years. He had an easy charm and a quick sense of humor that allowed him to slide right into the team, as if there had always been a spot waiting for him. 

On the ice, that charm quickly transformed into the cockiness that had him both adored and detested. He had a big personality that had been making waves since his debut in the league and it captivated people. Even in practice, he didn’t seem to know how to turn it off. He was loud and exuberant and seemed to enjoy keeping the other players on their toes. 

Steve didn’t like him. 

He didn’t like how brash he was, or how loud, or how over the top. It was like he constantly needed every eye in the room to be on him, which Steve didn’t think was the right way to act when they were playing a team sport. There were plenty of solo sports he could have gotten into if he wanted to be the center of attention so bad. 

“You need stop glaring at new boy,” a voice cut through his inner musings, “not look good. People already saying you not happy with trade. Not good for team.”

Steve was leaning up against the boards in between drills and he’d been watching, not glaring, and hadn’t noticed any one else approach. 

“I’m not glaring, just looking. Besides, I don’t think he minds the attention.”

“Attention? No, not mind. But don’t think coach wants problems between you two.”

Steve wasn’t the one who’d caused any problems, but he kept that thought to himself. “I guess you’re right. I’ll try to watch myself better. Thanks. Or, uh, spasibo,” he said, tripping over the pronunciation. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Alexei who just smiled brightly, clearly delighted, as he always was when one of his teammates made the effort to try and speak to him in his native language. 

“Пожалуйста,” he replied before skating off. He was a nice guy, if a bit odd at times. But then again, goalies usually were. And he made a good point, it wouldn’t do for Steve to make his dislike of Hargrove too obvious. Regardless of what may have happened in the past, they were teammates now and they were expected to get along. The last thing Steve wanted was to be accused of causing problems within the team. 

After a few more sets of drills, they were sent to the gym for their workouts, where it was thankfully more difficult to be a showoff, so Steve was spared, at least for a little bit, from having to pay too much attention to Billy Hargrove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like hockey and I like Harringrove and that's really the only explanation I have for this. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	2. Chapter 2

Sweat dripped down from Steve’s hair, stinging his eyes and making it difficult to see. He dropped with a huff into his stall, still in full gear, except for the helmet clutched in his hands. The rest of the guys were in a similar state, pulling off stinking gear, chatting, and airing their frustrations. 

Losing was never fun, but there was something especially bad about losing their first game back. Even if it was just the preseason, it felt like a bad omen for the season to come. Everyone knew that fans and analysts and trolls on twitter would already be using it as evidence that they were in for another bad season. Plus, they’d played Chicago and no one liked losing to Chicago. Because, well, it’s  _ Chicago _ .

Steve shed his equipment and showered quickly, promising himself a longer, hotter shower when he got home. Back to the locker room, a few guys had already left, but most were still hanging around in various states of getting dressed. A couple of them were making noises about going out for drinks, despite the disappointing loss. Hargrove was at the center of that group and Steve made a point to get dressed as fast as possible to get out of there.

He was just lifting his bag, ready to head out the door, when he was noticed.

“What about you, Stevie? You coming out?”

“Yeah, Stevie, you coming?” Hargrove parroted, a grin on his face. 

It was the first time Hargrove had spoken to him directly off the ice. All previous interactions had been limited to the bare minimum of words necessary for playing on a line together. 

“No,” Steve answered, looking at the guy next to Hargrove who’d spoken first, “not feeling it tonight. Probably just going home.”

“C’mon, Stevie, you’re worse than the old marrieds. It’s our first game back.” Something soft hit him in the side of the head. He looked at the ground and saw it was a wadded up pair of socks. 

“Ew, guys,” a couple of people around him laughed, “like you said, it’s the first game. I have plenty of time to go out and I’m tired tonight.”

“Too much partying in the offseason? Still trying to get back into shape?” One of the guys around Steve’s age, Tyler Bowen, was sitting in his stall smirking up at Steve.

“Leave him alone, Bows. If he doesn’t want to go out, he doesn’t have to.”

Steve tried to hold in his grimace. He appreciated his captain speaking up on his behalf, but he also hated feeling like he couldn’t fight his own battles. 

The captain of the Wraiths, Henrik Asklund, was an enormously tall Swedish defender with shaggy blond hair and deep laugh lines. He’d been playing in North America so long that he barely had an accent, but still sometimes slipped into his native tongue after drinking too much. 

“Thanks, Henke,” Steve said, ignoring the other guys smirking at him. He made the mistake of glancing upwards and making eye contact with Hargrove. He was staring at Steve, a strange expression on his face. As soon as he saw Steve looking at him, his lips curled upward and he raised his eyebrows. Steve blinked and looked down, hefting his bag back onto his shoulder. He walked quickly out the door before anyone else could stop him or say anything. 

Despite that first loss, the Wraiths were able to step it up the next two games, beating both the Red Wings and the Islanders. After their second win, the mood in the locker room was bright and Steve let himself be talked into going out to a bar in Brooklyn. As he and three other guys crammed themselves into an Uber, he wondered when he’d become so boring that he had to be talked into going out. 

He’d done his fair share of partying when he was younger, but the novelty had worn off for him and he often found himself sneaking back home or back to their hotel. He hadn’t been able to escape the locker room unnoticed this time, though. 

Despite looking more like a bar than a club from the outside, people were crammed into the space between the bar and the tables dancing along to the loud music. He and the rest of the guys pushed through the crowd to claim a large table in the corner. A few were lost in the crowd, choosing to dance, rather than sit or heading straight to the bar. Steve immediately claimed a spot at the table as someone else yelled out, “First round’s on me!”

Someone jostled Steve as they settled next to him. At first, he didn’t mind, it wasn’t a huge table and there were a lot of them, but then he glanced over and saw it was Hargrove. He tensed up and tried to shift away as subtly as possible. Unfortunately, it seemed he wasn’t subtle enough.

“What’s the matter, Stevie? Need your personal space?” He somehow already smelled like alcohol, though Steve couldn’t fathom how he’d already gotten a drink. 

“I was just making sure you had space,” Steve replied, not wanting to start any problems. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, throwing his arm over the back of the booth, brushing Steve’s shoulder, “I don’t mind sharing space with you.”

Steve couldn’t help but look over at him, his face twisting in confusion and discomfort. He wasn’t sure if Hargrove was actually trying to be friendly or if he was mocking him.

Luckily, he was saved from having to respond when three of the other guys arrived back at the table, each carrying several beers. The glasses were passed around and they all squeezed themselves into the booth. Hargrove was pressed completely against his side and his arm was still on the back of the booth. Steve wanted him to move it, but he was also worried that, without the proper room to maneuver, Hargrove would elbow him in the head. 

Hargrove completely avoided the potential problems of moving his arm by simply deciding not to. Steve shifted around in his seat trying to get comfortable and pulled his glass closer to himself. Billy took a sip from his own glass and adjusted himself so he could talk to the rest of the guys, but his body was still angled towards Steve.

“So, boys,” Derek McCann, one of their alternates, addressed the crowd, “who’s ready for the regular season?”

Sasha Morozov, their other A, let out a loud groan and elbowed him in the side. “Micky, no. We’re not talking hockey now. We need a work-life balance.”

“Normal people with boring jobs need a work-life balance. Our job is our life.”

“You should tell that to your wife and kids,” Henke replied, “I’m sure it would go over really well.”

Micky opened his mouth to reply, hesitated, then opted for a sip of his drink instead. The table around him erupted into laughter.

As the laughter died down, Sasha spoke again, “Now we know the state of Micky’s marriage,” some of the guys snickered again, “but what about the young ones?” He glanced around the table, “You’re setting a bad example for the children,” Sasha added, gesturing broadly at Steve, Hargrove, and Bows, the youngest guys at the table. “They need to have a life outside hockey. Friends, hobbies, wife and kids, one day.”

“I have friends!” Bows yelled, but Sasha ignored him. 

“Hockey doesn’t last forever. Always need something else.”

“You’re a smart man, Sasha,” Billy replied, “But I think I’m gonna hold off on the wife and kids for another few years.” As he said it, his eyes drifted out into the crowded bar where there was no shortage of attractive women.

“Yes, yes, I know your type,” Sasha said, though not meanly, “lots of fun to have when you’re young.”

“Sasha, you’re not even thirty,” Henke reminded him.

“I’m worldly,” he continued, undeterred, “Just be careful, children.”

Steve just nodded along with him as he spoke. Sasha, despite being far from the oldest on the team, had a habit of doling out advice on the younger players. Whether it was asked for or not. Steve had learned early on to accept it and move on, even if he had no intention of listening to what he was told. And it was nice, sometimes, to have someone on the team who was always willing to listen and offer advice. 

“Speaking of life outside hockey, Steve still hasn’t told us about the girl that was all over his instagram this summer.” 

All eyes at the table turned to Steve and he really wished the guys would mind their own business sometimes. He racked his brain, trying to think of who they could mean, considering he didn’t have a girlfriend.

“Who? Robin?”

“You tell us, Stevie,” Bows replied with a leer.

“She’s just a friend, guys. Sorry to disappoint.”

Steve kept his eyes fixed on his glass, rubbing at the condensation with his thumb. He knew all the guys were still looking at him and, though he refused to look over to confirm, he could feel the intensity of Hargrove’s gaze on him from how close he was. 

“That’s because you’re too soft, Stevie, you’ve gotta go after what you want.”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, tried that. Didn’t work. We’re better off as friends anyway. What about you? Any stories to tell? Or did you spend all summer at home making your mom do your laundry?”

The guys laughed and Bows tried to deny it, but his inability to perform even basic tasks off the ice were easy chirping fodder. They harped on him for a little before moving on, shooting the shit, sharing stories from their summers, and drinking.

“Right, so,” Henke spoke up, “Who wants another round? On me.” The idea of more alcohol, paid for by their captain, was always a crowd pleaser. A couple of guys went to the bar while with him another few went to join the others on the dance floor. Bows ducked out, muttering something about the bathroom.

Finally, with enough room to move, Hargrove pulled his arm back, settling into his new position, still closer to Steve than he needed to be, especially now that the booth was emptier. Steve took a long gulp from his glass, hoping desperately that Hargrove would also get up and go somewhere else. He didn’t.

Steve placed his glass back down on the table, keeping it gripped in his hand. He was trying to think of the best way to escape with Hargrove between him and the exit. Hargrove seemed content to sip his drink leisurely and watch the crowd. Steve wasn’t sure if the silence between them was awkward, or if it was just him. 

They sat in silence for a few seconds longer, before Steve decided he needed to go. “I wonder what’s taking them so long with those drinks, I’m gonna head to the bar and see if they need help carrying them, or something.”

Hargrove didn’t say anything, but he nodded and moved enough out of the way so Steve could slide passed him. Neither of them mentioned that Steve’s first drink was still more than half full. Steve pushed his way through the crowd until he found Henke and Sasha by the bar.

“Hey,” he said, approaching them, “I’m gonna head out.”

“You sure? It’s still early.”

“I’m just tired. Next time. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

The two older men still looked confused, but they didn’t try to stop him when he pushed passed them to get to the door. 

He escaped outside, taking a deep breath of the cooler air before pulling out his phone to call a car. The ride back to the hotel was mostly calm with unfamiliar music playing in the background. He didn’t bother asking the driver to change it.

Back at the hotel, the lobby was empty aside from one employee behind the desk, most people having either already retired to their rooms or, like his teammates, still out having fun. He took the elevator up to his floor and felt his exhaustion start to catch up with him as he watched the illuminated numbers tick upwards. 

His body still wasn’t quite back in the routine of near constant movement. If it wasn’t a game, it was practice, if it wasn’t practice, it was travel. And this was the longest road trip they’d been on since last spring. He needed to get better. If a one game road trip was taking this much out of him, he’d be useless during the regular season. 

Finally, the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened. He trudged down the hall to his door, fiddling with the key card until the door opened. He tugged off his shoes, jeans, and T-shirt, not bothering to put on anything else, and collapsed onto his bed. He double checked his alarm for the next morning then tossed his phone on the nightstand and closed his eyes. 

  
  
  
  


They dropped the next game against Nashville. Most of the guys still chose to go out afterwards. An afternoon flight the next day, up to Boston, meant that they could afford to sleep in a bit. Steve joined them, but he made sure to steer clear of Hargrove. 

They won in Boston and then again when they played Chicago for the second time. It was a good way to end the preseason and the analysts had begun talking about how their off season changes were already starting to show. Steve couldn’t help but agree with them. He knew it was far too early to start making predictions, but it felt like things were coming together better than they had the previous season. 

He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with having Hargrove on the team, but even he couldn’t deny that the guy was good. He still hated the over the top cellies, especially in games that didn’t really mean anything, but they weren’t entirely undeserved. Hargrove proved again and again why he’d completely bypassed the AHL and gone straight to the big league after being drafted, why he’d been in the running for the Calder in the 2017-2018 season, why the Wraiths had wanted him in the first place. 

He was dangerous, in more ways than one. The Wraiths had needed someone who wasn’t afraid to get physical and Hargrove had shown, repeatedly, that he wasn’t. Despite being on the shorter end of the spectrum in the league, he was strong as hell and faster than a lot of the really big guys. He wasn’t afraid to throw that strength around. His shot was lethal and he meshed well with guys who’d already been playing together for years.

Steve could admit to himself that he was a little bit jealous. He knew he should just be happy that the team was doing well, but he couldn’t help it. Of all the people to come to his team, steal the show, fit in perfectly, and have everybody love him, it had to be  _ Billy Hargrove _ ? That hardly seemed fair.

But professional sports were rarely fair and after his preseason performance, Hargrove definitely wouldn’t be going anywhere else any time soon. Steve knew he needed to get used to having him around, the sooner the better, because the regular season hadn’t even started yet and 82 games was a long time and hopefully they’d be playing even longer than that. 

They didn’t have to be best friends, kept reminding himself, they just needed to play together. He’d already been put on a line with Hargrove a few times during games and scrimmages and they’d done well together. 

Maybe they’d be fine. Whatever had happened, happened; it was nothing personal. They’d probably be fine.

* * *

There was a six day gap between the end of the preseason and the first game of the regular season. They still had practices and training, but Steve was trying to make the most of the last few days he’d have of regularly sleeping in his own bed and not playing three games a week. 

He loved hockey, of course he did, he wouldn’t be in the NHL if he didn’t, but it was exhausting. 

They’d had an early practice that morning and the afternoon found Steve spread out on the couch with Robin sitting cross-legged on the far end, laptop balanced on her legs. She was taking classes online, which meant she could work from anywhere, which often meant from Steve’s apartment. 

She was engrossed with whatever work she was doing on her computer and Steve was trying to watch TV, but it wasn’t holding his attention. He prodded her with his foot and she swatted at his ankle without looking away from the screen.

“Robin,” he whined.

“Steve,” she answered, deadpan.

“I’m bored.”

“Then go to the gym.”

He groaned, “Do you know how much time I spend working out?” 

“A lot. Do you know how much time I spend doing work?”

“A lot. So, we should both be doing something else right now.”

She huffed loudly, but finally looked away from her screen. Steve gave her his best puppy dog eyes and tried to look as pathetic as possible. 

Rolling her eyes, she sighed, “Fine, just let me finish this paragraph.”

“What are you even working on?”

“I’ll tell you about it when I finish.”

He let out a dramatic groan, but laid back on the couch and allowed her to finish. He looked back to the TV, but he hadn’t been paying enough attention and he had no idea what was going on. Giving up, he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of Robin typing away. 

He opened his eyes and looked up when he heard the typing stop followed shortly by the distinctive sound of a laptop closing. 

“Okay,” Robin said, “you have my full, undivided attention, Steve. What do you want to do?”

“Uh,” Steve thought, “what do you want to do?”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, “Seriously?”

“What? I’m giving you the power to choose.”

“You annoy me to come over here, even after I told you I’d have to do work, you bother me while I’m trying to write because you’re bored, and finally, I’m done and you don’t even want to do anything?”

“Why do we have to do anything? Can’t we just hang out? Talk to me, tell me what’s new.”

She grabbed his ankle, moving him away from her thigh and let out a laugh. “I can’t believe I used to think you were cool. The king back home in Hawkins is actually a boring old man who doesn’t like leaving his own house.”

“Hey! I leave my house all the time. Starting in a few days, I’ll barely be home, so excuse me for wanting to get my couch time in.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so busy, doing such important work,” she said sarcastically.

“What I do actually is important to a lot of people.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, but didn’t make any comment. “Remind me again, when’s your home opener?” she asked, instead.

“The fifth. Puck drops at seven. You still planning on coming?” 

She nodded, “Of course. Can’t miss my best pal Steve and a dozen other grown men ramming into each other at high speeds and getting into fights over a piece of rubber.”

“One day, I’ll make you a fan.”

“Good luck. And speaking of hyper-masculine displays of violence, how’s your new teammate?”

“We got a couple of new guys over the summer, you’ll have to be more specific.”

She gave him an unimpressed look, “My bad, I was referring, specifically, to the guy you texted me about immediately after you learned he was traded to your team.”

Steve looked away from her and flopped back onto the couch, gazing up at the ceiling. 

“He’s fine. I mean, he hasn’t done anything. Not to me, at least.”

“Has he apologized?”

“No, no one’s even mentioned it. Someone from the front office probably talked to him about it, but he hasn’t said anything to me and I don’t want to bring it up. We’re doing good, so why cause problems?”

“What’s he like? Is he really as big an asshole as he seems?”

“Ugh, he’s worse. Even if we didn’t have all  _ that _ ,” he made a vague gesture, trying to encompass their shared past, “I don’t think I could ever be friends with the guy. He’s so cocky and loud and it’s just like he’s everywhere all the time.”

“Sounds like you in high school.”

“What? No! I wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, you kinda were. But you grew out of it, became a little more self-aware, and now you’re almost a real person.”

He snorted, “Thanks.”

“Hey,” She said, slapping at his leg, “I’m trying to help. What I’m saying is, you used to be like that and you got better. I’m sure he will too.”

“I hope so. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’ll make it through this season.”

“Well, looking at past evidence, your odds of making it through the season are probably better now that he’s on your side. Y’know, considering.”

Steve propped himself up on his elbows to give her a dirty look.

“Too soon?” she asked.

“Yes. Too soon. Now, tell me what you’re working on. What’s so important that you’re giving it more attention than your best friend?”

“I have a paper due next week for my history class.”

“How do you already have papers due? Didn’t the semester just start?”

“It’s almost October, Steve.”

“I know that, obviously.”

“Yeah, so, we’re already a month into the semester. I’ve got about two weeks ‘til midterms start.”

“Ew. I’m so glad I chose the NHL over college.”

“Oh, it was a choice?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I couldn’t have gotten into college if I’d tried?” 

If he were to be honest with himself, he probably couldn’t have. His grades had always been poor and school had never been his priority. But he’d found a way to succeed without school and so far, it was working out pretty well. 

“That’s not what I said. I meant that I remember the way you used to talk about going pro in high school, like it was the only option, you’d settle for nothing else. I’m pretty sure someone could have offered to make you president and you still would have chosen the NHL.”

“Well, to be fair, I don’t think I would make a very good president.”

She laughed, “No, I don’t think you would. It’s probably better for all of us that you chose to strap knives to your feet and cause bodily harm to yourself and others.”

“I’m hardly a bruiser.”

She laughed a bit too loudly at that, but Steve chose to let it go, “True. You’re better off leaving that to your new teammate. And,” she continued before he could say anything, “you know exactly which one I’m talking about.”

“He better be ready to fight. We got him because everyone said we needed more muscle. If I have to deal with him, he may as well be useful.”

She snorted, “Maybe all this worrying about him is for nothing. Have you ever thought about that? As far as we know, he’s got nothing personal against you. It happened, it sucked, but it was probably an accident.”

“Maybe. Still, I don’t like him.”

Robin just laughed at him. “Well, you’ll have to get over that soon. You’re stuck with him for the foreseeable future.” 

He just groaned and collapsed back on the couch as she laughed at him again. She wasn’t wrong, though. Whether he liked it or not, Hargrove wasn’t going anywhere any time soon and Steve would have to deal with it. But that was fine, he could do that. Once the season started, they’d all fall into their own grooves and everything would be okay. 

  
  
  
  


Everything was not okay. 

They were halfway through the second period of their home opener and they were down 3-1. Steve could tell the other guys and their coach were frustrated. He’d been skating on the fourth line all night and he wasn’t getting the minutes he would have liked. Instead, he was spending most of the time on the bench as the Blues skated circles around them. 

As he watched, he felt someone slide down the bench and bump into his side. He glanced over quickly to see that it was Hargrove. 

“Fucking shit,” he said angrily, before squirting gatorade into his mouth. 

“Not over yet,” Steve said, though he was equally frustrated. 

“If we don’t step our game up, it will be. We can win this. Our goaltending is definitely better, we just have to take more shots,” he took another drink, “be more fucking aggressive.”

“Isn’t that kinda  _ your _ thing?” Steve asked. He wasn’t sure why Hargrove was complaining to him about this. If their problem was still a lack of aggression, then what the fuck had they signed him for?

Hargrove looked over at him, but before he could say anything in response, the guys on the ice came flying back to the bench and then Hargrove was over the boards and after the puck. 

Steve watched as he put some of that patented aggression to work. He slammed one of the Blues’ players into the boards on the far side of the ice, stealing the puck and taking off in the opposite direction. The Blues’ defenders rushed to get back into position, but they clearly hadn’t been expecting a breakaway. 

Hargrove blew past them, shoving away the defender who made a last ditch attempt to stop him. He fainted to the right, then at the last second shot it, going top shelf over the goalies left shoulder. The goal horn blared and the arena erupted in cheers. Behind the goal, Hargrove slammed into the boards, a huge smile on his face as their teammates swarmed him. Overhead, the announcers raved about Hargrove’s first goal as a Wraith and he skated to the bench, high fiving everyone. 

After going down the line, he circled back to stop in front of Steve. He was still smiling. In a second, he’d have to move as they lined up for the faceoff, but right then, he just looked Steve in the eyes, leaned forward over the boards and smirked, “Aggressive enough for ya?”

Steve still didn’t like him, but even he couldn’t help but laugh in exhilaration.

Hargrove’s goal turned out to be the boost they needed, because they played much better in the last ten minutes of the second. They were taking more shots, keeping play in the Blues’ zone and with five minutes left, they tied it up.

The mood in the locker room after the second was much better than it had been after the first. Hargrove had been whisked away for an intermission interview, but the guys were all loud and boisterous.

“Okay, boys,” Henke yelled from the middle of the locker room, “We may have had a rough start, but if we play the next twenty like we played those last ten, this game is fucking ours!”

He was met with loud screaming and cheering from the rest of the guys, Steve included. Before they knew it, they were heading back out onto the ice to the sound of thousands of cheering fans. 

They came flying out of the gates, playing hard and fast. But the Blues were determined not to let them get the lead and the score was still 3-3 at the ten minute mark. The good mood they’d had in the locker room had soured as the frustration built. Victory was within sight, but they just couldn’t get the damn puck in the back of the net. Steve really didn’t want it to go to overtime. 

He went out with his line and every shift he could feel himself getting angrier. He skated faster and harder and yet nothing he or his teammates did seemed to matter. 

With seven minutes left, he was on the ice again. They were in the Blues’ zone, passing the puck around, looking for an opening. When the puck came to him, Steve held onto it, letting the defenders converge on him before sending a hail mary pass that miraculously sailed between a defender’s legs to Bows, who was unguarded in front of the net. He shot it low and it slid in between the goalie's legs before he could stop it. 

The goal horn blared for the fourth time that night and Steve slammed into Bows, arms going around his middle as they both yelled in excitement. The fans all cheered along with them and Steve let him go so they could collect their high fives. 

The last few minutes of the period were brutal, the Blues determined to tie it up again, but they managed to hold onto their lead. Finally, the horn blared signifying the end of the game, the fans erupted in cheers once again, and the guys swarmed out onto the around Alexei in net. 

The locker room was loud. Music was blasting from the speakers and the guys were all yelling.

“Gentlemen,” Sasha yelled from the center of the room, “We shower, we go home, we change, and everyone who is not old and boring meets us downtown, yes?”

He was met with loud agreements and more yelling. The guys all struggled out of their sweaty gear before traipsing off to shower. Steve could feel himself buzzing with excitement. They’d won their first game of the season and he’d gotten a point. 

He showered quickly then struggled back into his suit, the fabric sticking on his still damp skin. He checked his phone, seeing a text from Robin, congratulating him on the assist and letting him know that she was heading home. He gathered his things and headed towards the door. 

“Stevie,” Sasha bellowed after him, “You are not escaping?” He asked, clearly suspicious. Steve just laughed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll meet you guys there.”

“He needs to get out early,” someone else added, “needs the extra time to get his hair like that.” That comment was met with laughter from the rest of the locker room. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You won’t be laughing when you’re trying to pick up at the bar and none of the ladies are looking at you.” 

Their laughter followed him out the door and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face, even as he walked to his car. 

Steve met up with the guys a little while later. A few of them were already crammed in a booth in the back of the club, drinks in hand. As promised, his hair was in a much better state than when he’d left them, a fact that did not go unnoticed. 

He ignored the chirps and whistles from his teammate in favor of heading to the bar to get a drink. He saw a few of the other guys in the crowd, dancing and clearly already a few drinks deep. 

When he finally pushed his way through to the bar, he saw Hargrove already there, elbows on the bartop, saying something to the woman next to him. She was laughing and had one hand wrapped around his bicep. 

Steve just rolled his eyes and pushed in next to him on the other side, trying to get the bartender’s attention. Hargrove turned towards him and Steve watched as recognition bloomed in his eyes.

“Stevie!” He yelled over the music, “what’re you drinking?”

“Nothing yet.”

Hargrove shook his head, like that was unacceptable. He waved his hand, drawing the bartender over to them, “Tequila shot for me, two for my friend, and get the lady whatever she wants.” The bartender nodded and poured the shots and placed all three of them down before turning to make the woman’s more complicated drink. 

“Drink up, Stevie.” He forced one of the shots into Steve’s hand and Steve had no choice but to down it. Hargrove slammed his shot glass down on the table and lifted the final one up for Steve, “You gotta catch up!”

Steve wasn’t sure why Hargrove of all people had decided it was his responsibility to get Steve drunk, but he didn’t want to argue and it wasn’t like he was going to turn down free drinks. 

Hargrove watched closely as Steve downed the second shot, nodding in approval. He slapped Steve on the shoulder once, “Good,” he proclaimed, “you’re good.” He offered no further explanation and instead turned his back to Steve to focus on the woman from before. 

Steve raised his eyebrows at the odd behavior, but decided to chalk it up to alcohol. He wandered back to the table and hung out with the guys for a little while before being coaxed out onto the dancefloor. 

He danced for a while, interspersed with trips to the bar for more drinks. A few women approached him and he danced with a couple, but he wasn’t in the mood to go home with anyone, so after a few hours, he called a car back to his apartment alone, sweaty, happy, and more than a little drunk. 

There were no lights on in his apartment when he arrived, but rather than turn any on, he chose instead to stumble to his room, shed his clothes on the floor, and collapse into bed. His head was spinning, even with his eyes closed, and he let himself sink into the soft mattress.

  
  


He woke the next morning, mouth dry and head pounding. He groaned and rolled over, trying to shield himself from light coming through the blinds. They had practice in the afternoon, which gave him enough time to take his time getting out of bed and lazing around the apartment. 

The worst of the hangover disappeared after he downed a cup of coffee followed by two bottles of gatorade. Once he was feeling a little more alive, Steve gathered up his clothes from the night before and began gathering his things, knowing he’d have to leave, sooner rather than later. 

When he arrived at the practice facility, he wasn’t the last one in the locker room, but he was still late enough to garner some attention. 

“Long night, Stevie?” someone asked him. He didn’t bother looking to see who it was. 

“None of your business, boys,” he responded, taking the chirps as they came. Instead of saying anything else, he dropped into his locker and began changing into his gear. 

He was one of the last ones out onto the ice, but luckily practice hadn’t started yet. The guys were either chatting, stretching, or skating lazy warm-up circles. 

Steve stepped out onto the ice, staying close to the boards as he did a lap. He was trudging slowly, watching his feet more than the rink around him, so it took him a second to realize that there was someone skating beside him. When he finally noticed the second pair of skates in his periphery, he followed the legs up to see Hargrove’s annoying, smug smile.

“Feeling alright this morning, Stevie?” He asked, pushing ahead of Steve. He turned around so he was skating backwards to face Steve, who had no choice but to acknowledge him. 

“Just tired,” Steve answered.

“Up late last night?” Hargrove prodded, eyebrows raised, that stupid grin still on his face. 

“You were at the bar too,” Steve answered, feeling his patience start to fray, “you know what I was doing.”

Hargrove held up his hands in surrender, “No need to get snappy. I’m not trying to start anything,” Steve snorted, but Hargrove either didn’t notice or didn’t care, “just wanted to see how you were doing this morning. But I know when I’m not wanted.” He skated off in the opposite direction, smile never leaving his face. 

Steve finished his lap, trying not to let the other man get to him. If it had been any other teammate, it would have been a completely innocuous interaction. Just small talk, or light teasing between friends. But it wasn’t any other teammate. It was Hargrove. They weren’t friends.

Despite doing his best to try, Steve couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room during every one of their interactions. He couldn’t tell if Hargrove was genuinely trying to move passed it and be friendly or if he was purposefully needling Steve. 

It was making some team interactions uncomfortable, but Steve didn’t know what to do about it. It wasn’t like Hargrove was causing actual problems and Steve didn’t want to be the one to start anything. 

He drifted back towards the rest of the team where they had begun congregating as the coach stepped out onto the ice. For the next few hours, between running drills on the ice and then working out in the gym, Steve was able to lose himself in the physicality of it, focusing on his movements and forgetting whatever else was bothering him. 

It wasn’t until after practice was over and they were all back in the locker room that he remembered what had had him so annoyed earlier. Hargrove was half-stripped out of his gear, messing around with a couple of other guys. They were being loud and throwing balled up pieces of tape at each other. Steve rolled his eyes at the antics, ignoring the fact that he had many times acted the same way. 

He stripped and showered quickly before getting dressed back into his street clothes and heading out. He told himself that he wasn’t fleeing. There was no reason to, he just wanted to get home. 

But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. He was trying to get away from Hargrove, that was obvious, no matter what he told himself. But he was also trying to get away from having to watch the other guys on the team interact with him. 

He knew they didn’t mean anything by so readily accepting Hargrove into the fold, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit betrayed. He’d been there first. And he got along with his teammates, but he hadn’t adapted nearly as fast as Hargrove. 

His first season with the Wraiths, he’d gone from being a big fish in a little pond, to finding out that he was very much average. Moving to a new city, playing on a new team, it was a big adjustment. 

He was annoyed that Hargrove was there, on his team, in his locker room, to begin with, but the fact that he seemed so well adjusted was just more salt in the wound. Of all the people to to show up and show him up, it had to be Billy fucking Hargrove?

  
  


He’d shortly arrived home, had just dumped his bag on the floor and collapsed on the couch when his phone buzzed with an incoming text message from Robin.

_ Im coming over _

_ We have important things to discuss _

He had no idea what she could be talking about, but he also knew better than to argue with her.

_ Do you want me to call you an uber?  _ he asked.

_ No need _ , she replied,  _ im already on my way _

He laughed, dropping the phone down onto his chest, unable to find it within himself to be annoyed with her. 

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed again and he dragged himself off the couch to let her in. She brushed passed him into the living room, dropping her backpack onto the floor and sitting cross legged on the couch. He followed her warily, still unsure what she’d meant by ‘important things.’ 

He sat down on the opposite end of the couch, watching her. 

“Steve,” she said, “do you know what day it is?”

“Uh,” He racked his brain, it wasn’t her birthday, he didn’t think it was a holiday, “the 7th?” 

“Yes, Steve. It’s the 7th of October and we still have yet to decide on Halloween costumes.”

“Is that seriously what you came over here to discuss?”

“Yes, it’s important. Unless,” she gave him a look, “I’m not coming to your team party?”

“No, no,” he reassured her, “You’re definitely coming. I mean, as long as you still want to.”

“Great,” She said, “then we need to pick costumes. I have some ideas already. Come look.” 

“You know we don’t have to do matching costumes.”

“Obviously, I know that. But are you telling me you don’t want to?”

“The guys will probably think we’re dating.”

She waved him off, “They’re male professional athletes. I know what I’m getting myself into. I can’t really expect much progressive thinking from this crowd,” she thought for a moment before adding, “or much thinking at all. I know hockey players aren’t the brightest.”

“Hey! I’m a hockey player.”

“I know you are. Now, come look at these costumes.” 

She pulled up a website on her phone, having clearly already bookmarked her favorites. They scrolled through a few of them with Steve vetoing every option. 

“You’re going to have to pick one,” Robin said, frustrated. 

“I know, but I don’t really want to go as a pair of sneakers. Or two halves of a bra.”

She rolled her eyes, “Those weren’t the only options, dingus. But I’ve got one more to show you.” 

She clicked a few buttons on her phone and pulled the last option. He pulled the phone out of her hand to get a better look at the costumes.

“Seriously?” he asked 

“What?” she asked innocently, “I think you’d look good in it. And it’s way less work than some the options you’ve already turned down.”

“Yeah, but” he looked at the picture again, “the guys are never gonna let me live this down.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna wear it?”

He signed and closed the phone before handing it back to her. Robin was still looking at him hopefully, laughter threatening to spill out from between her lips. 

“Well?” she asked again.

“I’m not gonna wear the hat,” he answered finally. 

She threw back her head, laughing in victory “Oh, this is gonna be great. I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	3. Chapter 3

The Uber dropped them off in front of the house where the party was already in full swing. Steve and Robin thanked the driver as they stepped out, patting down their pockets for phones and wallets. 

Steve awkwardly tugged at his shorts, even more uncomfortable now that only a few steps stood between him in his costume and his entire team. When he’d just been looking at the pictures, the ridiculous sailor costumes had seemed like the least of all the evils Robin had shown him, but he was beginning to regret not agreeing to go as a pair of sneakers. 

“Stop messing with it,” Robin said, slapping at his hands. 

“We look like idiots.”

“It’s Halloween, dumbass. If you don’t look like an idiot, then you’re not doing it right. Now, come one. I wanna get a drink and then I can start hitting on your teammate’s girlfriends.”

He sighed loudly, but he knew he had no power to stop her. So instead, he let himself be pulled up to and through the front door. 

Inside was loud. Music was playing and everyone was shouting their conversations to be heard over it. The lights were dimmed and there were decorations hanging from the walls and adorning all of the tables with food and drinks. Everyone he could see was in costume, some so extravagant that he couldn’t recognize the person wearing it. 

Before the door even had a chance to close behind them, someone was shoving his way into Steve’s space, yelling, “Stevie!” It took him a confused second to recognize Hargrove.

His already long blond hair had been styled and teased and he was dressed in a way that reminded Steve of old pictures of 80s metal bands. Trailing just a second after him was a woman dressed in a similar fashion with a pretty face and long, curly, dark hair. 

“Hey, Hargrove,” he said, going for casual, which was difficult, as he needed to yell to be heard. 

Hargrove took a step back and his eyes flicked briefly to Robin before doing an up-and-down of the two of them, taking in their costumes and Steve watched in horror as his eyes lit up in amusement. 

“What are you supposed to be?” he asked, the delight obvious in his voice. 

“Sailors,” Steve muttered.

“What?” Hargrove yelled over the music, clearly not having heard him.

“We’re sailors!” Robin yelled back at him.

“Ah,” He nodded, still smiling, “And you are?”

“Robin,” she answered.

“Nice to meet you, Robin. I’m Billy. This is Heather,” he gestured to the woman at his side who smiled and stuck out her hand for Robin to shake. Steve had to force himself to hold in a groan when he saw the look on Robin’s face.

With the introductions done, Hargrove clapped his hands together, “You guys want a drink?”

“Actually,” Steve cut in before Robin could say anything, “We’re gonna make the rounds first, say hello to everyone.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, we’ll be around.” For the life of him, Steve couldn’t fathom why Hargrove appeared to be disappointed. 

Deciding not to think about it, he grabbed Robin’s hand and pulled her into the fray. They drifted around the room, saying hello to everyone, making conversation, and taking shit for their costumes. 

A little while later, having finally decided to get drinks, they wound up in the kitchen where a makeshift bar had been set up on the counter. It was far less crowded and a little quieter.

“So,” Robin said as she poured herself a drink, “it seems like all’s been forgiven.” She raised her eyebrows and he wasn’t sure if it was a question or not. 

“What, Hargrove? I don’t know. He,” Steve paused for a moment, searching for the right words, “he still never apologized. I still don’t like him. But, I don’t know, we’re fine.”

She nodded, “That’s why you ran away from him? Because you guys are fine?”

He took a long sip of his own drink, “I told you I don’t like him. Just because I don’t hate him doesn’t mean I want to be friends.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, taking a sip and rolling her eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just think maybe it’d be easier to clear the air so you can stop hiding from someone you see almost every day.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever yourself. I’m gonna try and find some food. You coming?”

“Yeah, sure,” They rejoined the party, moving towards the snack tables, talking and dancing a bit along the way.

He was nervous at first when he saw Heather at the table, but after a second it became clear that Hargrove wasn’t with her. Robin walked right up to her, picked up a paper plate and complimented her hair and that was all it took for the two of them to fall into conversation. 

Steve watched as the two of them drifted off together and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed. Though he knew it wouldn’t improve his tenuous relationship with Hargrove, he couldn’t help but enjoy the idea of Robin stealing his date.    
  
Instead of trying to follow Robin, he loaded up a plate with snacks and joined a conversation with some of his teammates. They talked and danced for a little while and when he went to look for a garbage for his empty plate, he felt someone appear at his side. 

At first, he thought it was Robin, but as soon as he turned, he realized it was Hargrove. He was flushed from alcohol and his hair lacked some of the volume it had had earlier in the night. The biggest change however was that at some point in the night, his shirt had disappeared and he was bare-chested and sweaty under his leather jacket. He was wearing the easy smile of someone who had had quite a lot to drink. The whole image made Steve uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t quite understand.

“I think your girlfriend is trying to hook up with my date,” he said, without preamble.

“Robin’s not my girlfriend,” Steve answered automatically and then mentally slapped himself. That probably wasn’t the part of the statement that Hargrove wanted addressed. But rather than becoming annoyed, he just smiled wider, his tongue poking out from between his teeth.

“That’s good. I hate to imagine how that news would’ve gone over otherwise.”

“You don’t care about Heather?”

“I care a lot about Heather. But she’s not my girlfriend either.”

“Then why’d you bring her?”

“Why’d you bring Robin?”

“She’s my best friend.”

“Well, Heather’s a very good friend of mine. And I didn’t want to come tonight alone. I’ve only been here a couple of months and some of you guys have been playing together for years. Was worried it would get all cliquey.”

Steve looked over at him incredulously. He had to be kidding, “You’re not serious? You go out with the guys all the time.”

Hargrove shrugged, but he was looking out at the party, not at Steve, “The whole team rarely gets together like this, especially with all the wives and girlfriends. I’ll go to lunch with a couple of guys, yeah, or out to a bar after a win, but this is my first real team event of the season.”

He took a sip of his drink and finally turned to look at Steve, that lax grin back in place, “It’s just hard being the new kid, Stevie. I’m trying to make friends, but I still don’t think everyone likes me.”

There was no way Hargrove was just saying that. He had to be purposefully letting Steve know that he knew Steve didn’t like him. And now that he’d been so obviously caught out, he wasn’t sure how to react.

Part of him, a big part of him, wanted to tell Hargrove off. Remind him of exactly why Steve didn’t like him and tell him to fuck off. The more rational part of him was screaming that it was a terrible idea to start a fight in the middle of a team party. The smartest option to avoid any problems would be to play ignorant.

Unfortunately, he’d had just enough to drink that he had little interest in doing something smart.

He pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning on and turned to face Hargrove full on, “Yeah, well, maybe they have a reason to dislike you. Have you thought about that?” He stepped closer, “Maybe showed up here like everything’s fine when it’s. Fucking. Not.” 

Hargrove tensed in front of him. His fists clenched at his sides and for a crazy moment, Steve was sure he was about to be punched in the face. A strange mix of fear and excitement swirled inside of him. But it was short lived as Hargrove glanced to the side, at the other party goers who were blissfully unaware of the fight seconds away from breaking out in their midst. 

Seemingly reminded of where they were and who was with them, Hargrove looked back at Steve, suddenly far less tense. That infuriating smirk crawled back onto his face. “Whatever, man. If you’ve got a problem with me, come back when you’re ready to actually say it.” He pushed passed Steve, knocking their shoulders together before disappearing into the fray.

Steve stood still for a moment, fuming, before storming into the crowd to find Robin. He was dismayed to see Heather was still right next to her, but luckily Hargrove wasn’t there. He slid up behind her and tapped on her shoulder. She spun around, startled, until she realized who it was and she smiled widely and threw an arm over his shoulders. She’d clearly had another few drinks since she’d left him. 

“I’m heading out,” he said, close to her ear. 

“What? Why?” she asked, and he winced at how loud she said it. Heather tilted her head towards them, clearly listening in. Steve glanced over at her, sure that Hargrove would be hearing about this later. 

“Not feeling well. You coming?”

She nodded, “Yeah, yeah let’s go.”

Before they even got to the door, he had his phone out calling a car. He knew he’d get shit from the guys for slipping out without telling anyone, but considering he’d almost gotten into a fight with one of his teammates at their Halloween party, he figured it was better for everyone if he left, even if they didn’t know it. 

As soon as the car pulled up, he yanked Robin out the door and dove into the car. 

“Why’re you moving so fast?” Robin complained, her words slurring together.

He sighed and settled into the seat, “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

She grunted at him, eyes falling shut as the alcohol combined with the gentle movement of the car put her to sleep. He let her rest until they pulled up outside his building and he helped her get out and walk to the elevator. 

Once inside the apartment, she kicked off her shoes and headed straight for the guest room, collapsing on the bed. 

“Are you planning on sleeping in your sailor suit?” he called after her.

“Yes!” came her muffled reply. He chuckled to himself, but he knew from experience that trying to argue with a drunk and tired Robin, even if he was trying to help her, would never end successfully. Plus, it’d be fun to see her the next morning when she woke up hungover in a sailor costume. 

Taking off his own shoes, he headed to his bedroom, changed into sweats and a worn T-shirt and fell into bed.

  
  


* * *

Before the Halloween party, Steve must have been doing a better job at hiding his dislike for Hargrove than he’d thought. He’d tried his best not to be open about it, for the good of the team, but more than once he’d caught himself glaring or rolling his eyes and he was sure that others must have noticed as well.

But apparently, everyone else had thought everything was fine because that was the only way Steve could explain the awkwardness on the ice during practice. That morning, Hargrove had practically shoved Steve out of the way to get to his stall and Steve had pushed him back, far too aggressively to just be teammates horsing around. 

The locker room quickly went silent as the two of them squared off and it was only broken by Henke’s authoritative voice.

“Gentlemen,” he said, his displeasure clear, “I’m gonna forget I saw that if you sit down and gear up. Right. Now. 

Steve felt his cheeks flame up as he turned away from Hargrove towards his stall. The locker room was still awkwardly silent and he felt sure that several pairs of eyes were on him, though he refused to look up and confirm it. 

Steve rarely needed to be reprimanded. His previous talking tos had mainly been during his rookie season when he’d still been very young, suddenly with a lot of money and not enough sense of responsibility. He hadn’t always made the best decisions, but no serious damage had been done to himself or others and he liked to think that he’d matured a lot in the last year or so.

But all that maturity and learning from his mistakes was tossed out the window as soon as Billy Hargrove joined the team. 

The only thing that was making Steve feel a little better was that Hargrove was just as affected as he was. Gone was the showboating and instead Hargrove was practically silent and far more aggressive than he usually was at practices.

Most of the guys were steering clear of him, not making small talk between drills or joking around, clearly wary of his infamous temper. Steve was trying to stay as far away as possible and the few times they were forced to play together they didn’t even make eye contact and kept communications limited to single words at a time. 

It was affecting their play and Steve could tell the coaches were getting aggravated. Practice was agonizing to get through and when it finally ended, he hung back under the guise of helping clear equipment, really hoping that Hargrove would shower and leave quickly and they could avoid another confrontation. 

His hesitancy to enter the locker room apparently did not go unnoticed as he felt someone nudge him in the back with a stick. He turned around to find Alexei looking at him, eyebrows raised.

“I told you,” he said, “first day, I told you be nice.”

Steve sighed, leaning on his stick, “I know you did. And I tried, but,” he gestured vaguely at the ice, searching for the right words. When none came, he finished lamely with, “But I don’t like him.”

Alexei laughed, “But you need to try.”

“I just told you-”

“Not try to be nice. That is not working, you are bad actor. Try to like. Then you don’t have to pretend.”

Steve snorted, turning around to slowly skate towards the tunnel, Alexei following after him.

“Is maybe better than always being mad.”

“Maybe. But if we can’t even be nice to each other, I don’t think we’re ever gonna be friends.”

“Never know, Stevie. Never know.”

  
  
  
  


Things settled after that first practice. They didn’t have any more confrontations. On the ice, they were completely professional. Steve didn’t have to deal with any of Hargrove’s taunting whenever the team went out together and there was no more needling in the locker room. It would have been nice if the rest of the team hadn’t also noticed the change. 

Neither he nor Hargrove had done anything since the almost-fight in the locker room, so it’s not like they were in trouble. But Steve knew that the team leadership was watching them closely, ready to intervene. The other guys were all aware of what had happened, and had surely guessed the reason behind it. No one had said anything directly to him, but he was tired of the sideways glances and whispers.

At the tail end of a grueling Pacific Division road trip, Steve was physically and mentally exhausted. He was currently sprawled out on a hotel bed in Calgary, trying to force himself into unconsciousness. They had had practice in the morning and were playing later that night and Steve wanted every bit of rest he could get. 

He shifted about, trying to bunch his pillow comfortably under his head. He missed his own bed back home and drifted off thinking about when he’d get to return to it. 

  
  


The game itself was more physical than he expected and Steve found himself spending more time dodging hits than moving the puck. 

The last couple of games, Coach had moved Steve up to the third line with Hargrove on his wing. While Steve hated to admit it, they had been doing well together. But now, it seemed like nothing was coming together. 

Starting the second, they were down 2-1. Not insurmountable, but frustrating. Steve sat on the bench, energy thrumming, waiting for the signal for his line to go over the boards. When it came, he launched himself forward, Hargrove right behind him. 

A sloppy pass by the Flames resulted in a turnover and the Wraiths defense passed it up to Steve. He immediately turned and headed for the opposite net. Just as he passed the top of the faceoff circle, he felt a heavy weight slam into him from behind. He was knocked off his feet and went flying forward, abruptly coming to a halt when he crashed into the boards. His only thought was  _ please, not again, _ before his head and shoulder made contact.

He stayed belly down on the ice, dazed by the pain. A whistle blew and he looked towards the noise, squinting against the harsh lights of the arena. A few feet from him, two players were throwing punches. 

The crowd roared and he let out a groan. It was too loud for his already pounding head. He watched, still laying on the ice, as the Wraiths player fighting landed several good hits on his opponent. The Calgary player’s helmet came flying off and he stumbled, falling backwards. 

The refs swarmed, trying to pull the Wraith off of him, but he resisted them, throwing punch after punch, despite the fact that the other player had stopped hitting back. 

The cheers of the crowd turned to boos as the Wraith finally let himself be pulled back, clearly the victor. He pulled off his helmet as Steve watched, stunned. 

There was no mistaking that mess of blond curls, or the arrogant grin on his face. This time though, his face was marred by a splash of blood.

As a medic finally reached him, Steve watched in astonishment as Billy Hargrove was escorted off the ice for fighting in his honor.

  
  


The Wraiths lost the game 1-3. 

Steve was relieved to hear that he didn’t have a concussion, but he still wasn’t allowed to return to the game. Instead, he showered early and sat fuming at his inability to help as he watched his team lose. 

Hargrove had also not been allowed to return to the game, but Steve didn’t know where he’d gone. He was glad. He had no idea what, if anything, he was supposed to say to the other man. 

The mood in the locker room after the game was bleak. They all knew it was impossible to win every game, but that didn’t make the losses sting any less. Especially messy losses like this one. 

A couple of the guys checked in with him and he assured everyone that he was fine. They all showered and dressed quickly before heading out to the bus that would take them back to their hotel.

Hargrove rejoined the group at some point, though he made no move to approach Steve. They sat on opposite ends of the bus and Steve, in no mood to make conversation, closed his eyes as soon as he sat down and didn’t open them again until they pulled into the hotel parking lot. 

He and the rest of the team staggered into the hotel and up to their rooms. Their flight back home was scheduled for early the next morning, so they all wanted as much sleep as possible. Steve said his goodnights to the others before closing his door behind him.

After changing into pajamas and putting away everything he wouldn’t need the next morning, he was about to lay down when his stomach grumbled loudly. He considered ignoring it, but he knew they wouldn’t have time for much of a breakfast the next morning. A granola bar or a bag of chips would be better than nothing, even if it wasn’t in his meal plan. He dug his slides out of his suitcase and grabbed his wallet, heading to the vending machines he’d passed by the elevators. 

The hallway was quiet. The only noise was his feet on the carpet and the occasional low murmur of voices from behind closed doors. It was familiar in the way hotels always were. Always the same, regardless of where he was. 

He turned a corner and froze. Apparently, he hadn’t been the only one with the idea to go to the vending machines. He considered turning and running before the other man noticed him, but he hesitated a second too long and Hargrove turned around to face him. 

Surprise registered on his face for a second, before he schooled his features into casual indifference. He had a bruise forming on his cheek and his lip was split. Steve’s eyes flicked down to his hands as they untwisted the top of a gatorade and saw that his knuckles were scabbed and bloody. 

He started back towards the rooms, and Steve braced himself for another knock to the shoulder, but it never came. Hargrove walked around him and Steve was hit with a sudden rage at being ignored. 

First, Hargrove shows up and taunts him, then he almost fights him, then ignores him, then gets in a fight for him. And now he was going back to ignoring Steve? No. Maybe it was because he was overtired, or the hunger was making him angry, or perhaps his brain had been a bit more scrambled than they’d thought. Whatever the reason, Steve was feeling confrontational enough to finally demand answers. 

“Why did you do it?” 

Hargrove stopped walking and turned back to face him, “Do what?”

“You know what. Why’d you fight that guy?”

“It was a dirty hit. What was I supposed to do?”

Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, “C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t see the irony here.”

“What’d I say last time?” Hargrove asked, taking a step forward, “if you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“Fine,” Steve said, losing control of his temper. He shoved Hargrove back and took a step forward, “This is me, saying it. _You_ hit me. Remember? It was a dirty hit and you gave me a fucking concussion my first season in the NHL. You cost me my first playoff run. And then you show up on _my_ team, in _my_ locker room, acting like everything’s fine. Not even a fucking apology.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Steve. It was an accident! I didn’t mean to give you a concussion. Hockey’s a contact sport, injuries happen.”

“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do! It was a dirty hit from behind. You telling me you didn’t know it was illegal? Are you that fucking dumb? Because I don’t think you are. I think you’re just a dirty player who takes cheap shots and doesn’t care if someone gets hurt.”

“Y’know what? Fine. I’m sorry. I'm sorry for hitting you. I didn’t mean to give you a fucking concussion and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. Okay? I can’t. And you wanna call me dirty? Fine. It’s still your team who wanted me because they weren’t good enough without me. So, now I’m here whether either of us like it or not. And I fought tonight because you’re my teammate and you got hurt and that’s what I do. And I’d do it again even if you still hate me.”

He opened his hands as if imploring Steve, “Now, you’ve got your apology. Are you gonna keep holding this grudge like a little fucking kid, or can we both finally move on?” 

His words were harsh, but it struck Steve as the most genuine personality he’d ever seen from the other man. No cockiness, no sarcasm, or showboating; this was genuine emotion. 

Steve found himself stunned into silence. He hadn’t actually expected an apology. It had seemed more likely that he’d get hit again. And now he was feeling his anger deflate.

Before he could think of anything to say, a new voice startled them both.

“Boys, shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

They both turned to face the speaker and Steve groaned internally when he saw it was Sasha. The man was not nearly as intimidating in sweats and an old Team Russia t-shirt as he was in full gear, but Steve couldn’t help the dread turning his stomach at being caught fighting again by one of the As. 

“We were just heading back,” Hargrove answered. He tried taking a step, but Sasha held up a hand, stopping him.

“You know my room is right here? Last one in the hall by the elevators. Annoying, very noisy, I can hear people talking when they come up. And I can hear teammates yelling at each other while they’re supposed to be sleeping.

“Now,” he took a step towards the both of them, “I know you two have a bad past. But you’re teammates now and you need to get along. We’re going to clear the air, right now, then we’re all going to sleep because we have a very early flight tomorrow that I am not looking forward to.” 

“Actually,” Steve said, “I think the air has already been cleared.”

Hargrove looked over at him, surprised, as Steve had never actually gotten a chance to respond to his apology. 

“It has?” Sasha asked.

Steve nodded, “We talked it out.”

“So, I take it that means my apology has been accepted?”

“Apology accepted, Hargrove,” Steve said, extending his hand for good measure. Billy gripped it firmly, his lips twisting up into a smile.

“You know I’ve got a first name? I don’t think you’ve ever used it.”

Steve was pretty sure he was right.

“Okay, fine. Billy, I accept your apology.”

Their hands were still clasped and for a second, Billy’s smirk widened into something a little less antagonistic. Steve couldn’t help the feeling that something big had shifted between the two of them.

Before he could examine the feeling too closely, the moment was ruined when Sasha clapped a hand down on either of their shoulders.

“Good. That’s good. Now, bed. For all of us. I’m tired and I need my beauty sleep.” He steered them towards their rooms, “Just wait, boys. When you get old, everything hurts and you get ugly. Terrible.” 

Steve chuckled at his words, not bothering to point out that he was far from the oldest guy on the team and still quite young by non-athlete standards. He glanced to the side and made eye contact with Billy who looked just as amused. They shared a grin, clearly thinking the same thing and Steve was surprised how normal it felt. How they were able to share a joke. Like friends.

Maybe they could actually do this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything personal for or against Calgary, so please don't come for me if you do. I chose a team at random.
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: for this chapter specifically, vague mentions of past child abuse and current alcohol abuse.

Thanksgiving break provided a brief respite at the end of November. The guys who didn’t celebrate were taking the time to relax and most of the Americans were going home for the few days. 

Steve had the benefit of living close to home, so the Wednesday before, he loaded up his car with enough clothes for a few nights, stopped to buy an expensive bottle of wine in the city, then hit the road back to Hawkins. 

Three hours later, he pulled up to his parents’ house. There were no cars in the driveway and the house was silent as he entered. It wasn’t surprising. Both his parents worked full time and were frequently away for business trips and conferences. Holidays had never been a big deal when he was younger and the older he got, the less effort they’d put in. 

He’d already known they wouldn’t be home this year, but walking through the empty house to his childhood bedroom, he couldn’t fight the slightest sense of disappointment. 

He dropped his bag on the floor and sat down on the bed. His room was exactly as he’d left it. The same rumped sheets, the same posters decorating the walls, various trophies and knickknacks on the dressers. He laid down on the bed, taking in all the vestiges of his childhood and teen years.

Returning home always felt like entering a mausoleum. It was something cold and untouchable; beautiful and well maintained, but inhabitable for anyone with life inside them. He hadn’t felt at home in this house for years and he had a suspicion that his parents didn’t either. It was why they all spent so much time away.

Whatever. It wasn’t his parents or the house he’d come back to see. 

  
  


Entering the Byers-Hopper house was the polar opposite of entering his own. Music was playing from somewhere, people were talking, the sound of water running and plates clinking was coming from the kitchen. The house itself was messy. Where the Harrington house looked like a cutout from a design magazine, the Byers-Hopper house looked like a home. 

He followed the noise to the kitchen where he found Joyce and Hopper arguing over a half made pie, the kids nowhere in sight. He knocked on the kitchen door frame to alert them of his presence and they both looked up, startled. 

“Hey, the front door was open, so-”

He was cut off by an excited Joyce running at him and throwing her arms over his shoulders. He patted her gently on the back and when she stepped back he accepted a firm handshake from Hopper. 

“Do you guys need any help with anything?” he asked.

“No, no you’re a guest,” Joyce said, bustling him out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Have a seat. Jonathan’s flight got delayed, so he just landed and will be here in a little while. Will and El are in one of their rooms. Dustin and his mom should be here soon. And everything is taken care of, so you just sit.”

He did as he was told and dropped onto the couch. The TV was on, though currently showing commercials. He ignored it, instead taking in the living room. Very little had changed since he’d been there last. The same pictures hung on the walls of Jonathan and Will as little kids, with the later additions including El. Joyce and Hopper’s wedding photo now also had its own place of honor. 

He’d spent his first holiday at Byers-Hopper Household the year he’d been in the AHL. It was the first time he’d been living full-time away from home and his parents had taken that as a sign that they no longer had to be home for Thanksgiving. Steve had been young and lonely and had tagged awkwardly along with Dustin and his mom with a second hand invite and apologies for intruding already on the tip of his tongue. 

Those apologies had been waved aside by Joyce who let him in with a smile. There’d been some discomfort with Jonathan at first, but after some awkward apologies and a handshake, the two had moved on. Every year since then, Steve had joined them for Thanksgiving.

Dustin’s loud entrance jolted him out of his reverie. He joined Steve on the couch, jumping into a story about his friends from school. The sudden uptick in the noise level brought Will and El out of hiding and they joined Steve and Dustin in the living room. When Jonathan finally arrived, they were all ready to sit down and eat. 

  
  


After dinner, everyone wound up sprawled around the living room in various states of consciousness. Steve hauled himself off the couch and towards the kitchen in search of something to drink. 

Hopper was alone in the kitchen, pulling a beer out of the fridge. He looked up when Steve entered and offered him one as well. Steve took the proffered can and they both sipped in silence for a moment.

“How’s the season going?” Hopper finally asked. Steve knew he’d never been a hockey fan, but he appreciated the effort. 

“Good. Winning more than we’re losing. Our defense could use some work, but” he shrugged, “that’s not really my area.”

Hopper nodded along, taking another sip. “You know,” he said, “Joyce follows you more closely than I do. I think it helps her with her own frustrations, watching you boys hit each other,” he smiled fondly and Steve tried to picture Joyce watching a hockey game. He wondered if she yelled at the TV.

“There was something early this season, some trade she was worried about. Everything okay?”

Steve took a long sip of his beer just to put off answering. Of course, there was no escaping talk of Billy Hargrove. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Remember my concussion, a few years ago?” Hopper nodded, “the team traded for the guy who hit me. We, uh, had some issues, at first. But we’re good now. He apologized.”

Even as he said them, the words felt weird. It wasn’t a lie, Billy had apologized and Steve wasn’t angry anymore, per se. But there was still some weight to every one of their interactions. Like Steve had spent so long fixated on him out of anger, that even now, with the anger gone, Steve could never look at him as just another teammate. 

Hopper didn’t seem to notice any of his weirdness and just continued nodding along, “That’s good, that you guys worked it out. What’s your schedule like once you head back?”

“Home game on Saturday. We have an Eastern Conference road trip the first week of December. If I have some free time, I’ll see Jonathan and Nancy in New York. Our dads’ trip is the week after and that’s always,” he grimaced, “something.”

Hopper chuckled into his beer, “I wish I could see your old man in one of his fancy suits drinking cheap beer and high fiving strangers.”

Steve looked down at the floor, shuffling awkwardly, “He’s, uh, he’s not coming.”

“What?” Hopper asked, not laughing anymore, “what do you mean he’s not coming?”

“He said he couldn’t take the time off from work. He hasn’t come the last couple of years either, so,” he shrugged. Steve was used to his parents, but explaining their absence in his life to other people always made him uncomfortable.

“Damn, kid. Don’t take this the wrong way, but your dad’s a real dick.”

Steve barked out a laugh, “Yeah, I know.”

Hopper took a long sip of his beer, stopped, looked up as if he was about to say something, hesitated, then took another sip, the can crinkling in his hand. It appeared that he’d finished his beer and if he hadn’t, Steve thought he might have kept up that cycle indefinitely.

Instead, he put the empty can on the counter, cleared his throat, and fixed his gaze on the far wall, rather than at Steve.

“Look, kid, I don’t know how much this dads’ trip means to you, and tell me if I’m overstepping, but you’re here more often than you’re at your own parents’ house every time you come home, so, if you wanted, I could take the time off work.”

Steve almost dropped his can in surprise. He’d been casual acquaintances with Hopper for years now, but he never expected the man to make such an offer. He was ready to decline the offer, tell Hopper how much he appreciated it, but that it was far too much. But then he got to thinking. Every year he had to field questions about why his father didn’t come and was left out of all the group activities. 

He was never the only guy there without his father, but he was a local boy, and the team knew it. It was one thing for the dad who lived in Russia to be unable to make it, it was something very different for the dad who lived a three hour drive away. 

And if Hopper was offering…

“I would appreciate that. If you’re sure.”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure. Not like it’s a real hardship to take off from work to go to a couple of hockey games.” He clapped a heavy hand down on Steve’ shoulder, “Now, come one. Joyce is gonna start making some kind of noise about dessert soon, I can feel it. And I don’t want to be in her way when she does.” 

Steve let himself be led out of the kitchen, a smile on his face. 

  
  
  
  


They dropped their first game back, a disappointing home loss to Minnesota. The following day they were on a flight to Boston where they lost another game and then headed immediately to New York. They had one day off in New York, then a back to back against the Rangers and then the Islanders.

He’d promised Nancy that he’d get lunch with her and Jonathan during his day off. He really wanted to rest, but he forced himself out of their hotel and into a car to meet them at a cafe downtown near the NYU campus. 

When he arrived, the two of them were already sitting at a table together, steaming mugs sitting in front of them. He greeted them both and dropped his jacket off on the free chair before heading to the counter to order something for himself. 

They made polite conversation for a little while, about the season and their school year. Finals were about to start for both of them and though Steve had never experienced it himself, he’d heard enough times about how stressful it was to offer his best wishes. 

“I really can’t believe it,” said Nancy, “it feels like we just started and now we just have one full semester left. We’re almost fully fledged adults.”

She had a smile on her face and her tone was joking, but Steve knew her well enough to hear the stress in her voice. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve said, trying to lighten the mood, “no one would mistake any of us for adults.”

Nancy laughed and rolled her eyes, “Easy for you to say, you got your dream job out of high school. I’m just hoping my internship can turn into a fulltime job once I graduate.”

“From what you’ve been telling me,” Jonathan cut in, “you’re not really giving them much of a choice.”

“I’m good at what I do and they’d be stupid not to hire me. I’m just making sure they see that.”

Steve laughed into his coffee, “I don’t think you have to worry. Even if this job doesn’t pan out, you’ll find something good. I know you will.”

“Thanks, but no entry level job is gonna compare to a dream career right off the bat. I can’t imagine being our age and already making millions, it must still feel like a dream come true.”

Steve took a long sip of his coffee. On the tip of his tongue was a response about all the hard work he’d put in to get where he was, that it wasn’t just a dream or a miracle. 

He loved hockey and he was thankful for what he had, but he also hated people acting like it wasn’t a real job, like he had somehow put in less effort than people who went to college. 

He put down the mug and pasted a smile on his face, “Yeah, I do have it pretty good, don’t I?”

They both laughed along and he washed away the bitterness with another sip.

“So, how’s the season going?” Jonathan asked, looking vaguely like talking about sports pained him.

Steve grimaced, “We’ve, uh, hit a bit of a rough patch. But we’re hoping to bounce back. Overall pretty good.”

“And how’s everything with the team?” Nancy asked, giving him a meaningful look. 

“We’re fine. Everything’s fine.” She watched him closely, clearly trying to see if he was lying. Whatever she read on his face, it must have been good enough, because she nodded in acceptance. 

“When are you playing again?”

“Tomorrow night and the day after. Puck drops at 7, both nights.”

“I’m really sorry we can’t make it,” Nancy apologized, “But finals week, you know?” He didn’t, but he nodded along anyway. 

“No worries. Maybe next time.”

They stayed for a little while longer till they’d all finished their coffee. Steve paid the bill for all three of them, waving off their protests. They both thanked him and said their goodbyes before heading back to their apartment. Steve hopped in a cab and headed back to the hotel where he was finally able to take a nap.

The next night, they lost to the Rangers. They were 2-2 going into the third and a goal in the last five minutes put them down and they weren’t able to recover. It would have been a frustrating loss regardless of context and their recent string of losses only made it worse. Billy broke his stick over the goal as they skated off the ice. For once, Steve understood his aggression. 

They finally snapped their losing streak against the Islanders, letting in one goal in the first, but then scoring three unanswered goals in the next two periods. The relief in the locker room was tangible and they were able to head home on a high note. 

Their first day home they had no game, just practice. They won their game against Winnipeg the day after at home and Steve went out with a bunch of the guys to celebrate. 

Billy was there with them, sitting at the table, already on his fourth beer while Steve was on his second. Unlike their usual nights out, he wasn’t being loud or obnoxious. He didn’t seem determined to make himself the center of attention. Instead, he was stewing in the corner, drinking with a frown on his face. 

Steve briefly thought about asking him what was wrong, but then decided it wasn’t any of his business and he also didn’t really care. Instead, he finished his drink, headed out to the dance floor and found a pretty girl to dance with.

  
  
  
  


The following week, their dads’ trip started. The first day was mostly promotional stuff, pictures of everyone together, showing the dads around the rink and getting shots of everyone wearing their son’s jersey. 

The few guys whose dads weren’t coming were excused for the day. A handful of the European guys and, he was surprised to notice, Billy weren’t there. Steve himself had never been there for the first day and he couldn’t help the warm sense of satisfaction at finally being able to participate. 

Hopper had introduced himself as Steve’s uncle and everyone accepted it without question. He seemed to be getting along well with the other dads and no one on the team bothered about his uncle showing up instead of his father.

Once they were done with all the photo ops, they were allowed to head home for the day. Hopper walked along Steve and after glancing around to make sure no one else was walking too close to them, he lowered his voice to ask,

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, which one of these guys was it that gave you your concussion. I think I should have a couple of words with him.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You really don’t have to do that. I told you, we’re cool now. And besides, he’s not even here right now. I guess his dad isn’t coming.”

“Huh, alright. But he’ll be at the game?”

“What are you gonna do? Fight him?”

“Maybe. If he gets on my nerves.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. “C’mon. I appreciate it, but I don’t need you beating up any of my teammates.”

“If you say so.”

  
  
  
  


They won their next home game before heading out for a one game road trip to Columbus. They landed late and headed straight to the hotel. There was an early practice the next morning and the game after that, so they had little free time and curfew was strictly enforced. 

Steve was getting ready for bed in his hotel room when he heard a loud crash from next door followed by a muffled voice yelling. He couldn’t make out what was being said, but he knew it was one of his teammates and he wanted to make sure everything was okay. 

Making sure he had his key, he went out into the hallway and knocked on the neighboring door. There was more noise from inside, but no one answered so he tried knocking again. The door swung open and Steve was faced with Billy as he’d never seen him before. 

His hair was disheveled and his face was red and blotchy. His eyes were red and for a second Steve thought he was having some kind of allergic reaction before he noticed the tear tracks. 

“What’re you doing, man?” Steve asked.

“Nothing,  _ man _ . Go back to your room.”

“What was that noise?”

“I knocked over the lamp, it’s no big deal.”

“How the fuck did you do that?” Steve asked, pushing passed him into the room. It was identical to Steve’s own room, only the bedside lamp was in pieces on the floor. It was too far from the end table to have been knocked off accidentally and Steve was imagining Billy throwing it at the ground. Almost as disturbing, the contents of the minibar were also strewn across the floor, the little bottles all empty.

“What the hell?” he asked, confused. Why the hell had Billy decided to get drunk by himself and trash a hotel room?

“It was an accident. I’ll pay for it. Fuck off.”

“You drank the whole minibar by accident?” Steve asked sarcastically. 

“Is there a reason you’re still here? You wanted to know what the noise was, I broke the lamp. What do you care if I wanted to get drunk?”

“Because you’re alone in your room drinking and breaking shit. That’s not okay,” he pinched his nose, and let out a deep breath, trying not to let his frustration get the best of him. “You’ve been off for a few days now. What’s wrong?”

Billy collapsed backwards onto the bed, rubbing at his eyes, “Just,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, “all this shit.”

Steve didn’t really know what to do with that. “Do you want me to get someone? I’m sure we’ve got someone you can talk to if you’re having, uh, problems.”

“Jesus fucking Christ no. I don’t need a shrink. I just need this fucking week to be over.”

This week? He couldn't be serious, was that really what all this was about?

“What? Are you upset that your dad couldn’t come?”

Billy let out a loud, humorless laugh, still not making eye contact, “No, Stevie. I’m not upset he couldn’t come. I’m pissed I even have to think about that bastard.” He hiccuped, “This whole week they’re talking all this bullshit about how important our dads are, how they’ve helped us, raised us, supported us” he laughed again, “it’s bullshit.”

Steve was very much out of his comfort zone, but he didn’t think walking out now would make anything better. He braced himself and started speaking again, 

“Listen, I get it, I don’t have the best relationship with my father, but-”

“I know.”

“Huh?”

“I know. I heard some of the guys talking earlier. Said the last couple of years you were on your own this week and this year it's your uncle, not your dad.”

“Right,” Steve continued, uncomfortable, but not surprised that his teammates had noticed and were talking about him when he wasn’t there, “but you don’t see me getting drunk and breaking shit over it.”

“Y’know, I thought you of all people would understand this,” he hiccuped again, “God knows you hated me for years over one hit that was a fucking accident. If we’re using your system, I think I’m justified to hate him long after he’s dead and buried.”

“What does you hitting me have to do with anything? Are you saying your dad-” he stopped, the pieces clicking into place, “oh.”

Billy snorted. “Yeah,  _ oh. _ And now every team in the league does this stupid trip. There’s no fucking escaping it. God, I’m fucking drunk. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this,” he looked over at Steve, “you repeat a word of this, to anyone, and I’ll-”

“I wouldn’t. Don’t worry,” Steve hesitated, unsure of what else he should do. “You should go to bed, sleep some of this off. We have early practice tomorrow.”

“I know, I know. I’m a fucking professional, Stevie,” he rolled over onto his side, showing Steve his back and effectively ending the conversation. “Hit the lights on your way out.”

Steve didn’t feel great leaving him in such a state, but he also didn’t think sticking around would help much.

“Okay,” he backed up towards the door, “night.” Billy just grunted at him and he flicked the light switch as requested and let the door shut behind him. 

Once he was safely back in his room, he sat down on the bed and said “What the fuck?” out loud to the empty room. What was he supposed to do when one of his teammates, with whom he was barely acquaintances, got drunk and confessed traumatic secrets? Pretend like nothing happened? Could he really do that? 

He was sure that was what Billy would want, but Steve knew himself. He couldn’t help but care about people. Should he keep it to himself? Should he break the promise he made and tell someone? 

He rolled the possibilities around in his head until sleep finally claimed him, no closer to a solution.

  
  


True to his word, Billy was completely professional at practice the next morning. Or, at least, his version of professional. He was loud and rowdy, playing well and making the other guys laugh. He didn’t seem hungover at all and if Steve hadn’t seen him the night before, he would never have known anything was wrong. Steve’s stomach twisted at the thought that last night may not have been the first time something like that happened, and just because Steve hadn’t witnessed it before, he’d never known.

After practice, they returned to the hotel for their pregame naps and Steve waited up a little longer than usual just to make sure there were no unusual noises coming from Billy’s room. Comforted by the silence, he let himself drift off.

At the game, Billy was playing even more aggressively than usual. They’d been playing well together so the coach was keeping them on the same line. He’d already scored once, Steve getting the assist. He also got into a few scuffles, though no fights. He was playing well, but Steve worried about him taking more risks than necessary. He was a good player and they needed him on the ice, not in the box. 

As they settled on the bench after a shift, Steve looked over at Billy. His eyes were glued to the ice. Their last shift he’d gotten into a shoving match with one of the opposing team’s defenders. It hadn’t resulted in any penalties, but they had had to be separated before it could get more serious. 

“Hey,” Steve said. Billy glanced over at him, only taking his gaze off the ice for a second.

“What?”

“You good? That guy didn’t hit anything important?”

Billy laughed, “It was barely a love tap. I can handle worse than that. I’m waiting for one of these losers to go for an actual hit.” He had the same grin on his face that he always did when the game was going well for them, especially when he was getting the chance to rough some people up. 

On their line’s next shift out, Bows scored with Billy and Steve getting the primary and secondary assists. They finished the game 4-2 and Billy was the second star, with one goal and one assist. 

Steve was happy with his own two assists. As they were leaving the arena, Hopper clapped him on the shoulder and told him he was proud. Steve pretended he was having trouble with the buttons on his coat to avoid making eye contact long enough to get himself under control. 

  
  


The dads trip continued for one more home game before it was time for everyone to head home. As they were saying their goodbyes, Hopper cleared his throat and avoided looking at Steve. Steve was reminded of their conversation when Hopper had first offered to come along. 

“You know, kid, you’re pretty good at this hockey thing.”

Steve couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “Thanks, Hop. That is what they keep me around for.”

“Listen, I know I’m not good at this,” he gestured vaguely between the two of them, “but I mean it. You’re good. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“Thanks, Hop.”

“You’re welcome. And maybe learn to throw a punch. It might help you out some.” 

“I can throw a punch if I need to. That’s just not my job out there.” And as long as Billy stayed on his wing, he probably wouldn’t have to worry about fighting his own battles. But he didn’t say that to Hopper.

“Whatever you say. Just be careful out there.”

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my name's Chris and I love found families and good parental figures. Also, in my fictional universe, the Rangers go 82-0 ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	5. Chapter 5

After the dads trip, they had a homestand that took them up until the holiday break. Their last practice before the break, everyone was discussing their plans. Most of the guys who lived in North America were going home. A couple of guys were going on vacation. Steve kept his head down as they discussed plans. 

He wasn’t going anywhere for the break. He’d decided against a vacation. After all the time he spent on planes during the season, getting on another one when he didn’t have to sounded awful. Especially because the break was barely long enough as it was to really relax. Including travel days, it hadn’t seemed worth it.

He was regretting that decision, listening to everyone else describing their plans. He wasn’t going back to Hawkins, either. Joyce had assured him he wouldn’t be a burden, but he knew Dustin and his mom wouldn’t be there, and the prospect of spending time with just their family, the only odd one out, hadn’t sounded very appealing either. He hadn’t heard from either of his parents, so he assumed that meant they weren’t expecting him. 

So he was spending the break in the city by himself. 

He glanced up at the room. Most of the guys were talking and laughing, happily anticipating the break. A few guys were more sedate. Billy was sitting in his stall, uncharacteristically silent. He wasn’t saying anything about plans. 

Steve looked back towards the floor, not wanting to get caught staring. He finished changing and putting his things away. He waited for longer than necessary in his stall, fiddling with things in his bag and pretending to check his phone. If anyone had asked, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them exactly why he was waiting. Luckily, no one did. 

When Billy finished a few minutes later, Steve watched him stand and heft his bag as he walked out the door. Steve waited another few seconds before lifting his own bag and following after him. With no semblance of a plan, he trotted up to Billy. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, immediately regretting every decision he’d ever made.

Billy looked at him strangely. “I’m heading home.”

“Okay, cool. What’re you doing over the break?”

“Nothing. Resting mostly.”

“Same. Me too. Maybe, uh, since we’ll both be in town, we could grab lunch. Or something.”

Billy stopped walking and grabbed Steve’s arm, forcing their gazes to meet.

“Listen, I don't know what you’re doing, if you feel bad for me or something, but stop it. I don’t need your pity. Okay?” he let go of Steve and started walking again. Steve picked up his pace to catch up.

“This isn’t pity. How is lunch pity?” He might not have been being completely honest. He would have never considered asking Billy Hargrove of all people to hangout before he’d walked in on him drunk and crying. He still hadn’t been able to shake the uneasiness at how easily Billy was able to hide it and he didn’t want to think about him being left alone.

But also, Billy had apologized. They were cool. And they were teammates. Teammates who were cool with each other hung out together. It made sense. It didn’t have to be coming from a place of pity.

“You wanted nothing to do with me and now, after the other night, you’re suddenly asking me to hang out?”

“Well, if we’re being honest, I didn’t really like you up until pretty recently.”

Billy snorted out a laugh. He didn’t say anything, though, and Steve took that as permission to keep going. 

“But we’re cool now. And we’re both gonna be around over the break. So, we should hang out.”

Billy glanced over at him. He still looked skeptical, but he wasn’t telling Steve to fuck off. Steve tried to give him his most sincere expression. Billy rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever. Maybe.”

“Great. I’ll text you.”

“Okay.” Billy still sounded annoyed, but looking over at him, Steve could see a small smile on his face. And that was good enough for him. 

  
  
  
  


The first day of the break, Steve spent almost entirely on the couch. He slept in late, lounged around in sweats, and ignored his phone, enjoying the rare time to himself. The second day, he got to the gym in the morning, then returned to his couch. 

By the third day, he started going stir-crazy in his apartment and decided he needed to do something different. It was Christmas day, so he wasn’t sure how many places would be open or who would be around, but he was determined to get out of his apartment even if it was only for a walk. 

He pulled on his coat, patted his pockets to make sure he had his phone and keys before stepping out of his apartment and letting the door slam shut behind him. 

Outside it was snowing. There were a few people walking and the sidewalk was coated in a slick layer of slush. Soft flakes were slowly drifting down from the clouds. Steve wandered aimlessly for a while. The whole world felt muted by the snow and the unusual emptiness gave the familiar city a strange aura. 

Steve tried to check the time, but found maneuvering his phone had become difficult, his hands cramping from the cold. He hadn’t realized how cold he’d gotten and figured he should probably head inside. Still reluctant to seclude himself back in his apartment alone, he instead turned a corner and headed towards his favorite diner. 

The place was a neighborhood staple and Steve was pretty sure it never closed. As he opened the door, a small bell jingled, alerting the handful of people inside of his entrance. A bored looking hostess showed him to his table and a few moments later a waiter appeared with a cup of coffee. 

Steve flipped through the menu. He wasn’t really hungry, but he felt like he should order something while he was there. It was incredible, he mused, how a menu longer than some books had so few options that would fit in his meal plan. He didn’t feel too guilty about it, though. He knew the guys who had gone home for the holidays or those who were on vacation were probably eating even worse than he was. 

He ordered a burger, choosing fries on the side instead of a salad, deciding if he was going to cheat, he may as well commit to it. 

As he waited for his food, he fiddled with his phone, scrolling through instagram and liking his teammates various vacation photos. Looking at all their tropical beach photos, he couldn’t help but be a little jealous. It was his own fault for deciding against going on vacation, but still. He hated being the only one not doing anything.

Well…

Not the only one. 

Before he could think better of it, he selected his messaging app and opened a new thread. He’d had Billy’s number saved for months now, he had everyone on the team’s number, but he’d never once messaged him directly. He tapped out a quick message.

_ Hey you busy? _

He dropped the phone down on the table, refusing to stare at it while waiting for a response. Instead, he fiddled with his napkin and watched the snow continue to fall.

When he saw his phone light up with a response, he made a point of putting the napkin down and lifting up the phone slowly.

_ No, why? _

Why, indeed. Steve didn’t have a good answer for that. He typed out  _ nothing, nevermind _ and almost hit send before quickly backspacing. Instead, he sent 

_ Come get lunch _

He quickly followed it with the address of the diner. He was about to lock his phone and put it down again, when the read notification popped up. The three dots appeared, showing Billy typing his response. Steve watched for almost a full minute as the dots remained, but no message appeared. 

He watched with growing apprehension. What could he possibly be typing that was taking so long? When the dots suddenly disappeared, Steve dropped his phone in frustration. That’s what he got for trying to be nice, he thought. He picked the phone back up, ready to delete the message thread and pretend his invite had never never happened when a response finally popped up. He almost laughed. 

_ Okay _

Steve put his phone back on the table just as the waiter brought his burger. He picked at the food absentmindedly. He spent more time zoning out, gaze fixed on the snow swirling outside the window. He ate most of his fries before even touching the burger, more to keep his hands occupied than because he really wanted them. 

He was jolted out of his stupor by the sound of the bell at the front door. He looked up and saw Billy stomping his feet on the mat and unwinding a scarf from around his neck. He watched as Billy scanned the diner before their eyes met. He gave a short nod in recognition and Billy walked over to him. He dropped onto the bench across from Steve.

“Cheating on the meal plan, Stevie?” he asked, not even bothering to say hello.

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s the holidays, I’m allowed to cheat. Besides, I’m sure everyone else is doing worse.”

Billy chuckled, his tongue poking out from between his teeth. “I’m sure you’re right.” He reached out and stole one of Steve’s few remaining fries, popping it in his mouth before Steve had time to react. 

“Hey!”

Billy just grinned at him. “Sorry, Stevie. But I’m hungry. Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s rude to start eating before everyone has their food?”

“Whatever, asshole,” Steve mumbled. He didn’t want to explain to Billy that he’d already ordered before making the decision to invite Billy. If he said that, the obvious followup question would be why did he decide to invite Billy, and he wasn’t sure he had an answer for that. 

“So, you, uh, enjoying the break?” he asked awkwardly. 

Billy nodded, chewing, “Yeah, trying to give my body a break, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “you didn’t want to go away?”

“Didn’t feel like it was worth it,” he looked over his shoulder towards the window and when he turned back he had a wry smile on his face, “though, that may have been a mistake.” Outside the window, snow continued to fall. 

“I’m sure the weather in LA’s a lot different.”

“Let’s see,” he pulled out his phone, “right now in LA it is… 60 degrees and partly cloudy.”

“Damn, I could go for 60 degree weather.”

“Yeah, definitely miss that.”

“Do you, uh, miss LA a lot?”

Billy shrugged, “Sometimes. Being close to home was nice sometimes. Really fucking sucked other times.” He made a face like he’d eaten something sour and Steve scrambled to change the subject.

“You like it here, though?”

Billy’s face untwisted and he looked at Steve with a thoughtful expression for a moment before that look too disappeared and was replaced with the sarcastic smirk Steve was becoming all too familiar with.

“Yeah, for sure. You’ve got a really great group of guys here. Real hard workers, I’m excited to be a part of it. Can’t wait to get out on the ice and get to work.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his laughter, “Uh huh, and we gotta get pucks in deep and play a strong game. Save that shit for the media.”

Their brief moment of camaraderie was interrupted by the waiter returning to drop a menu in front of Billy. He left almost immediately, but the slap of the plastic pages against the table top startled them both, silencing their laughter. 

Billy picked up the menu, flicking through it while an awkward silence descended over them. Steve struggled to think of something to say, but he was coming up blank. It was an odd realization that for all he had thought about Billy, how often he had talked about him, complained about him, had played with him, he actually knew next to nothing about him.

Hell, up until a minute ago, he hadn’t even known he was from somewhere near LA. 

He was saved from trying to make more small talk about the weather when Billy sighed heavily and put down the menu. 

“Listen, Steve I, uh, I wanted to apologize. Again. For everything.”

“You already-”

“Yeah, after you basically told me to. I just want you to know that I meant it. I really am sorry and I would take it back if I could. And when I first got here, I wasn’t trying to pretend like it never happened. I didn’t know you were still so mad about it, I thought it would be best to treat you like anyone else. Because it was never anything personal. I never had a problem with you and I still don’t. It was a dirty hit. I know that. And I should have apologized when I first got here. But I didn’t. So, uh, sorry for that too, I guess.”

“Oh, uh, thank you. For your apology. I accept it. I mean, I did last time already, but I, uh, accept it again. And, for what it’s worth, I didn’t handle this the best either. I could have said something to you first, instead of just holding onto this grudge. And when I said you were just a dirty player, I didn’t mean that. That hit was dirty, but that’s not all you do. You’re good.”

“Thanks.”

Steve wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. He hadn’t invited Billy to lunch with the intention of getting another apology and he definitely hadn’t expected it when it came. He hadn’t lied when he’d said that he’d already accepted Billy’s first apology, but having him explain it all, when they weren’t already riled up, made him feel even better.

The waiter returned to take Billy’s order and Steve watched in surprised amusement as he ordered a plate of chocolate chip pancakes.

“You got a sweet tooth?” he asked, teasing.

“That's a problem?”

“No, just surprising. You struck me as a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”

“There’s a lot more to me than you know, Stevie. I’ve got all kinds of hidden depths.” 

“Hidden depths, hmm? Like what?”

“What do you want to know?” Billy asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know. Whatever you wanna tell me. If we’re gonna do this whole,” he gestured between the two of them, “friends thing, friends know things about each other.”

“Okay, Stevie. You want me to tell you about myself?”

Steve rolled his eyes, “The floor is yours.”

“Hmm,” Billy tapped his fingers on the table, his forehead scrunched in thought. “I,” he began, “am 21 years old.”

“Seriously? I could’ve googled that. What’s next, your height and weight?”

“I thought we’d start with the basics.”

“Well, then, I’m 22.”

Billy nodded along as if Steve had shared very important and revealing information. 

“And where are you from, Steve? Or do you want me to just google it?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but answered anyway, “I’m from Hawkins, Indiana.”

Billy’s eyes lit up. “Indiana, huh? Local boy,” he observed.

“Kinda, it’s a few hours drive away.”

“And what goes on in Hawkins, Indiana?”

“Not much,” Steve answered honestly, with a laugh, “it’s a pretty small place. Most of my friends have left. They all took college as an excuse to get the hell out of there.”

Billy nodded in understanding, “That would have been my plan, if hockey hadn’t worked out. But it did. And now,” he spread his arms out, “I’m in beautiful Indianapolis, Indiana.”

“Listen,” Steve cut in, feeling the need to defend both his home state and the team that drafted him, “it’s not LA, sure, but-”

“It’s definitely not LA. And it’s not New York or Nashville or Chicago or Vegas-”

“It’s also not Winnipeg.”

Billy laughed, loud and genuine. “You’re right. It’s not Winnipeg.”

The waiter interrupted them briefly to drop off Billy’s plate of pancakes. Steve watched in fascinated horror as Billy doused the stack of pancakes in syrup.

“I know you said you had a sweet tooth, but man, that’s just disgusting.”

Billy cut a large chunk out of the pancakes and stuffed it in his mouth. “Listen, Stevie,” he said around his mouthful, “I don’t cheat often, so when I do, I’m going to make it worth it.” He pointed towards Steve’s own plate, “Unlike you. Did you order that burger just to look at it?”

To be completely honest, Steve had forgotten that the burger was even there. He glanced down at where it was sitting, getting cold and soggy. He pushed the plate off to the side. 

“I’m not really that hungry. I just figured if I was here, I should order something.”

“Why’d you come to a diner if you weren’t hungry?”

Steve shrugged, “I was going stir crazy in my apartment, so I went for a walk. Wound up here.”

“Why didn’t you go home for the holidays? You’re so close, you could’ve driven there this morning”

“Well, my parents aren’t home, so my options were to spend the break alone here, or spend the break alone there. Figured I’d save myself the drive.”

Billy nodded, chewing another bite of pancake, “I’m sorry to ruin your plans, then.”

“Huh?”

“To spend the break alone.”

“Oh. Uh, it’s okay.”

“I am curious, though. Why did you invite me?”

“Well, I knew you were staying here for the break. And so am I. Obviously. And I figured, since both of us were alone, we could hang out.”

“You don’t hate me anymore?”

“No,” Steve answered honestly. He had hated Billy. For a long time. But he’d wanted an apology and he’d gotten it. And now, finally spending time with him, he could admit that he was funny and not awful to be around.

“That’s good. ‘Cause when you did, it kinda sucked.”

“Oh?” Steve hadn’t really thought Billy had cared that much.

“Yeah, y’know, for team chemistry and all that. If we’re gonna be on a line together, it’s probably better if we like each other.” 

“Yeah, definitely,” Steve didn’t examine why he felt disappointed that Billy only wanted to be friends because they were playing on a line together. 

“If we’re gonna stay on a line together,” he continued, “is there anything else I need to know about you?”

“You sure you don’t wanna just google it?”

Steve just glared at him, not answering. 

Billy laughed, “Alright, alright. Let’s see, 21, from California, sweet tooth, uh, I have a sister. Well, step-sister.”

“Oh?” Steve perked up, intrigued. He’d never heard her mentioned before.

“Yeah, her name’s Max.”

“How old is she?”

“18. She’s in her freshman year at University of Michigan.”

“Impressive. I’m an only child. Though, one of my good friends is a few years younger than me. He’s kinda like the little brother I never wanted.”

“You tell him that?”

“All the time.” 

They stayed and chatted for another two hours, finally leaving when their waiter pointedly dropped the check off without them asking for it. He’d put both their meals on the same bill and before Steve could say anything, Billy had snatched up the little slip of paper. 

“Do you wanna split it? Or I can venmo you, I don’t have any cash on me right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy said, standing up and pulling on his jacket. 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, I invited you.”

“Humor me,” Billy said, walking towards the counter to pay. 

Steve stood and pulled out his coat. Once Billy finished at the register, they walked to the door together. They stepped back out into the cold and Steve shoved his hands into his pockets. He was about to say goodbye and head off when Billy spoke up.

“Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Nope, why?”

“I was just wondering, if you wanted, we could hang out again.” Billy twisted his hands together before seeming to notice the action and shoving them in his pockets. “It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. Just chill. Because, like you said, we’re both here by ourselves.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice. I was planning on going to the gym tomorrow morning, you could come along, if you want. After that we can grab lunch again or something.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled widely and Steve thought he sounded way too excited about an invitation to work out, but who knows. Maybe he’d been really bored.

“Okay, cool. I’ll let you know when and where.”

“Great. Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, Billy.”

  
  


As promised, Steve texted Billy the next morning and the two of them met at the gym. They couldn’t do much talking while they were working out, but Steve found that he enjoyed having someone else there with him. Obviously, he and the rest of the team worked out together all the time, but when it was just the two of them, working out on their own time, without the team trainers watching, it felt more like hanging out than like a necessary part of their job.

When they finished their workouts, Steve sat down on the floor, leaning up against the wall. He let his head hang, sweaty hair dripping in front of his face. He closed his eyes, taking the time to slow down his breathing and heart rate. He could feel his clothes sticking to his skin and the flush in his cheeks.

Billy, the asshole, was standing above him, laughing, “How’re you feeling, Steve?”

Steve didn’t bother answering, just lifting his middle finger instead. He opened his eyes and squinted against the ceiling lights behind Billy and the sweat in his eyes. Billy had his phone out, the camera pointed towards Steve. 

“Oh, you dick,” he said, jumping to his feet. Billy backed away, still laughing, keeping his phone out of reach, now typing. “Whatever,” Steve said, giving up on trying to grab the phone, “if you put in the same level of work I did, you’d be tired too.”

“Aw, Stevie, don’t be like that. Besides, the people love it.”

“The people?”

Billy tilted the phone towards him, careful to keep it just out of Steve’s reach. Billy had posted the photo to his instagram story and in the few seconds it had been posted it had already garnered dozens of views. It wasn’t actually that bad, his face was barely visible, but the hair was unmistakable. And it didn’t hurt that Billy had tagged him in it. 

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Billy said confidently. He walked past Steve and grabbed a towel off the bench to mop his forehead. He looked down at himself, pulling at his damp t-shirt. 

“Damn, I’m sweaty. You wanna shower then we can go get lunch?”

Steve looked down at himself. He definitely needed to shower, but he also didn’t feel like eating out again, “You wanna just go back to my place after we shower? We can order in.”

Billy shrugged, “Works for me.”

The both showered quickly in the gym locker room before getting dressed into clothes comfortable for lounging around. Billy followed Steve home in his car and when they arrived, Steve took him upstairs. 

“Nice place,” Billy said, dropping his gym bag in the entryway. He kicked off his shoes and hung his coat up on a hook. 

“It’s alright.” Steve shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t often host teammates at his apartment. His place was far smaller than he could afford and he’d mainly done his decorating himself. The furniture was mismatched, though comfortable and the walls were decorated with pictures of his friends and teammates, as well as other random decorations that had been gifted, mainly as jokes, but he’d hung anyway. A memorable one was a ‘Live Laugh Love’ sign in the entryway that Robin had given as a housewarming gift. 

All in all, it was an odd space. It did not reflect the amount of money he earned and it was a far cry from the house he’d grown up in. But maybe that was the point. 

“I mean it,” Billy said, eyes flicking across the pictures on the wall, “I’ve been in my place for months now and it still feels like a hotel room. This is better.”

“Thanks. Uh, let’s go sit down,” he led them to the living room and tossed the remote to Billy. “Here, put on whatever you want. I’m gonna order food, I’m starving.”

After ordering enough food to satisfy two hockey players who’d just worked out, he rejoined Billy in the living room. He was surprised to see that Billy had settled on some HGTV show about home renovation. 

“Foods on its way. You weren’t kidding about those hidden depths.”

Billy glanced over at him, “You think you’re too good for mindless daytime TV?”

“That’s not what I said, but, I don’t know, it doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“No offense, Stevie, but so far you’ve been pretty bad at assuming ‘my things.’ That’s why we were playing 20 questions yesterday, remember?”

“Guess I should stop making assumptions then, huh?”

“Probably.”

They settled into a comfortable silence. The TV played at a low volume and Steve felt himself being lulled to sleep. He was startled when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of the food. He went to stand, but Billy nudged him back down.

“I got it,” he said, walking towards the door. Steve didn’t argue. He hadn’t realized how tired he’d been until he’d sat down. They’d reached the point in the season where he was almost always tired. They all were. It was mostly momentum that kept him going everyday, but now that he’d had a few days to recover, he could feel the familiar aches setting in. 

Billy returned with the food and dropped the bags on the coffee table. 

“Where’re your plates?”

“Over the sink, cabinet on the left.” Billy nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Steve began unpacking the bags, placing the various containers out on the table as Billy returned with plates and silverware. 

“I like your Ikea dishes,” he teased as he set them down, “though I’m surprised you have one coherent set. Because based on the rest of your design sense,” he waved his hand at the living room, “I was expecting more mismatch.”

Steve laughed, “To be fair, I actually bought the plates on my own. A lot of this stuff came from friends.”

“So, the plaid armchair?” Billy asked, eyebrows raised.

“My friend Robin suggested I buy that one. You’ve met her actually. At, uh, the Halloween party.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember.”

“Yeah, uh, she also got me the sign in the hallway.”

“She has interesting taste. Did she also suggest the, uh, indie sci-fi movie posters?” he asked, clearly more confused by those than anything else. There were three of said posters hanging on the living room walls. Steve had gotten used to them to the point where he usually forgot they were there. However, looking at them for the first time, as Billy was, they were pretty strange.

“No, actually, those came from a friend named Dustin. He’s the brother I never wanted I told you about yesterday. 

“And have you seen any of these movies?”

“I have not.”

Billy laughed, “You really just let your friends run rampant in here?”

“Basically,” Steve said, smiling, “it’s not like I know how to decorate anything. And they wanted to help, so,” he shrugged, “it’s nice having their little touches around.”

“Didn’t want to hire a decorator?”

“No. It’s my home, you know? I’d rather have mine and my friend’s tastes on display than some stranger’s.”

Billy nodded, “Makes sense.”

“What are you thinking about doing with your place? Now that you’re here to stay.”

“Not sure. I was gonna hire a decorator, just to get it done. But you’re right. That does seem very impersonal,” he frowned, “I don’t know. It’s not really a priority right now. I’m barely there, anyway.”

In Steve’s opinion, that was why it was so important to decorate your house. Make it personal. They spent so much time away, in nearly identical hotel rooms, the thought of coming back home to an equally impersonal space sounded awful.

As soon as he’d signed his contract, Steve had found a place and requested help setting up. His eclectic, mismatched apartment was as far as he could get from a hotel room. 

He didn’t say any of this to Billy. He simply nodded and said, “Yeah, makes sense.” He didn’t need to tell Billy what to do with his apartment.

They ate in silence. A new episode of the same home renovation show was playing and Steve found himself being drawn into it despite himself. He was pulled out of a discussion on the pros and cons of a kitchen island by Billy’s voice.

“What was that?” he asked

“I said,” Billy answered, “Bows thinks you need to work on your cardio.”

“When were you talking to Bows?”

Billy waved his phone around, “He replied to my story.”

“Right, your story. And how many people have seen that, now?” 

“Couple thousand.”

“Great, just a couple thousand strangers saw me right after my workout.”   
  


“They weren’t all strangers. Bows isn’t a stranger. And Alexei replied too. But just the bicep curl emoji, so I didn’t think that one was worth sharing.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, “Thanks again for embarrassing me.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that big a deal. And the fans love seeing us look stupid.”

“Easy to say when you’re not the one on video looking like a mess.”

“I’ve been plenty messy in plenty of videos, don’t worry.”

And that did fit in with some of Steve’s assumptions. He’d never tried to pay much attention to Billy before they’d been on the same team, but hockey players gossiped a lot and everyone had friends on other teams. And the same media covered all of them. He’d been unable to avoid hearing about Billy, about his behavior both on and off the ice. 

He was young, attractive, and made a lot of money. It wasn’t like he was unique and it wasn’t shocking. Steve had been seeing him out at bars for months now. He always drank, was always loud and boisterous. He never had any problems picking up and didn’t seem to have any qualms about doing any of it. Steve was sure some of that behavior had been captured by friends, teammates, and bystanders over the years. 

Not that Steve was a saint. He went out and drank with teammates and he picked up his fair share of girls. Especially when he was younger and during his first year in the league. Though the concussion had definitely put a dent in that season. He didn’t say any of that to Billy either. 

The point was, Steve had definitely acted out and drank and hooked up with strangers when he was younger. He liked to think he’d outgrown a lot of his worst habits. Billy, very clearly, hadn’t. 

“I’m sure you have,” Steve settled on, trying to keep his tone light.

Billy looked over at him. The grin on his face was sharp, like he knew exactly what Steve was thinking. “What did I say about assumptions, Stevie?”

“What? No, I didn’t mean anything by that. Just, I’m sure there are some stupid videos of me out there too. Probably of all of us. Last season Bows tried dancing on a table and then fell off. Someone has to have a video of that.”

“Uh huh. I’m sure that’s what you meant.”

He turned back to face the TV. He didn’t seem mad, he hadn’t gotten up and stormed out, but he also had very clearly ended the conversation. Steve settled back into the couch, trying to shake the discomfort. They sat in silence watching as the couple on screen fought over their downstairs bathroom. They both slipped deeper into the couch as that episode ended and then another one began. And another. And another. 

As the outro music played on the last episode with shots of the finished house playing on screen, Billy sat up and stretched, his joints popping loudly. Steve looked over at him as Billy checked his phone and scrolled through a couple of messages he’d missed as they’d been watching. 

“I should head out.”

“Oh,” said Steve, sitting up, “you don’t have to. I mean, it’s not that late.”

“Yeah, but I figure I’ll get out of your hair. Plus, I’ve got some food at home that if I don’t cook tonight is gonna go bad. And I’m trying to be a real adult, you know? Responsible.” 

Steve nodded, “Yeah, I get it.” He tried to picture what Billy looked like when he cooked, but the image of him with his hair back and an apron on didn’t sit well. But then again, he was learning a lot about Billy these days and it was quickly becoming apparent that he didn’t have close to the full picture. 

Steve stood up to walk Billy to the door and stood awkwardly while he put his coat and shoes back on. “So, I’ll, uh, talk to you later?”

Billy nodded, “Yeah. Heather’s back in town tomorrow and I promised her we’d hang out, but I’ll text you.”

“Okay, great. Sounds good.”

“Bye Steve.”

“Bye Billy.”

The door shut behind Billy and for a moment Steve stood alone in his silent entryway. After a moment, he started laughing. He looked around, as if searching for an answer, but there was no one around to offer anything. 

“What the hell am I doing?” he asked himself, still chuckling, “friends with Billy fucking Hargrove.” He shook his head, “What the hell?”

He wandered back to the living room and returned to his spot on the couch. A different home renovation show had started and Steve considered changing it for a moment, before deciding to leave it. He squished one of the throw pillows under his head and stretched out, taking advantage of having the whole couch to himself. 

If someone had told him back in August that he’d be sharing his couch with Billy Hargrove, he probably would have laughed at them, or maybe tried to hit them. It was funny how things turned out. 

  
  


The next day was the final day of the break. Steve took advantage of it and slept in before running some errands. Around lunch time, he got a text from Billy that just said ‘ _ Heather says hi _ .’ He responded ‘ _ Hi Heather _ ,’ but had yet to hear anything else. 

He’d gone to the gym for a few hours in the morning, but nothing too intense. He knew he’d regret not working out harder on his own when practice started up again the next day, but he couldn’t help but enjoy the few days of rest. 

He was currently perched on his couch, laptop balanced on his knees. He was supposed to be answering emails from his agent, but he kept getting distracted by Dustin’s incessant texting. The TV was also playing in the background, which wasn’t helping his concentration. It was the same home renovation show that Billy had put on the day before, and though Steve would never admit it out loud, he’d gotten hooked. 

With a huff, Steve put his laptop aside and picked up his phone. Dustin was 17 messages deep into planning his weekend trip to visit Steve before his classes started and seemed to be working through their itinerary by the hour. 

_ Do I get any say in this? _ Steve texted back.

_ no _

Steve let out an exasperated chuckled,  _ You know I'm kinda busy, right?  _

_ i already planned around your game schedule dont worry _

_ And what about the part where you come out with the team?  _

_ You're still 19 remember?  _

_ Or are you planning on coming to Canada with us? _

_ check the dates i gave you youre not gonna be in canada  _

_ and i know you went out drinking in the states when you were a teenager we can find a way _

_ You’ve already made your mind up about this _

_ yes  _

Steve sighed loudly, but there was no one there to commiserate with.

_ I guess I’ll see you next week _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am once again apologizing to a Canadian city. I've got nothing against Winnipeg, but it is apparently the [least favorite city](http://winnipegfreepress.com/sports/hockey/nhl/winnipeg-least-favourite-city-among-visiting-nhl-players-us-survey-reveals-564517192.html) of actual players and one of the [least desired](http://digitaljournal.com/sports/report-the-5-cities-nhlers-don-t-want-to-play-in/article/426500) cities for trades, so, do with that information what you will. 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	6. Chapter 6

The first practice back was brutal. Steve had been hoping that they coaches and staff would go easy on them, considering most of the guys were just coming back from vacation, but no such luck. Steve’s legs were burning as he skated over to the boards, helmet tucked under one arm, and grabbed a random water bottle, squirting it in his mouth. 

“How’re you doing, Stevie?” Billy skated by, mouth guard hanging out from between his teeth. 

Steve put the water back on the bench, pulling a glove off to run a hand through his disheveled hair, “Fuck off.”

Billy laughed, loud and delighted, before skating off to go bother Alexei in net. Steve shook his head, unable to hide the smirk on his face. He was so focused on catching his breath, that he almost missed Mickey skating up to him. .

“You two all good here?”

Steve looked up at him, surprised, “What, me and Billy? Yeah, we’re fine.”

Micky raised his eyebrows, “If you say so.” He skated off, prodding Steve gently with his stick as he passed. Steve put the water bottle back on the bench and skated off towards center ice where the other forwards were lining up for another drill. 

They finished out practice with a shooting drill. Coach was trying to shuffle the lines, but at one point, Steve and Billy wound up playing together. They skated around the defense like they weren’t even there. Steve tapped the puck over to Billy and Billy took the shot. The puck sailed in over Alexei’s shoulder, catching in the net behind him. 

Smiling at each other, Billy and Steve skated around back to the back of the lines. 

“Stevie, question,” Billy called as they took their places at the end. 

“What?” Steve asked.

Billy skated up next to him, bumping his shoulder, “When are you gonna stop passing?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t mean never pass,” Billy clarified, “but you should try taking the shot more often. You don’t. You don’t score as much.”

Steve shrugged, “Maybe I like being the assist guy. And I do shoot the puck. When I see a chance. No point in taking the shot when there’s a defender in my face.”

“You can’t always know when you have a chance. Sometimes you’ve just gotta take the shot,” Billy looked at him meaningfully.

Before practice ended, their line was up one more time. This time, when Steve got the puck, rather than passing it off like he wanted to, he tried skating around the defense and taking the shot himself. 

The puck bounced off his stick at an awkward angle and Alexei was able to stop it in his glove easily.

Steve grimaced at the save and skated off to the boards where they watched the last groups go before everyone headed to the gym. Billy didn’t say anything else, but he did knock into Steve from behind, so hard that he almost fell over. Steve glared at him, but Billy only looked back over his shoulder as he passed, grin firmly affixed in place.

  
  


They flew out early the next day, kicking off a week-long road trip. They dropped their first game in Dallas, but didn’t have much time to wallow before they were back on the plane headed to Arizona. They won in Arizona and again two days later in Colorado. The final stop was a game in Vegas.

They landed late and went straight to the hotel. The next day they had an early practice, but the game wasn’t for another day. As practice ended, they were sternly reminded that their curfew was still in effect and that they were expected to be in top shape for practice the next morning and the game that night. 

Even with that warning, a lot of guys, especially the young, single ones, were already starting to get rowdy. As Steve was gathering his things together after his shower, he felt someone drop down onto the bench next to him. He was not surprised to turn and see Billy, still shirtless and damp, grinning at him. 

“You coming out tonight?”

“We still have a curfew.”

“C’mon, Stevie. This is Vegas, we can get into plenty of trouble before curfew.”

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” he leaned into Steve, “stop being a wet blanket.”

“You’re the one who’s wet. Get off me,” he shoved Billy off, but not before a large wet stain formed on his shirt. Billy just laughed, completely unrepentant. He stood up and headed back towards his own stall.

“I’ll let you know when we’re going out!” he called over his shoulder, and Steve just shook his head, but didn’t argue, already knowing that he’d be there with them.

  
  


Steve was putting the final touches on his hair in the mirror when he heard his phone start buzzing. The message, from Billy, just said,  _ come to room 817.  _ Steve patted down his pockets to make sure he had everything before heading down the hall to Billy’s room. 

A handful of other guys were already there, the contents of several minibars spread across the nightstand and dresser. Billy was lounging back on the bed. His shirt was barely buttoned and the two halves fell open over his chest. His blond curls were fanned out across the pillow and Steve didn’t want to stare too closely, but it looked like he was wearing makeup around his eyes. 

As Steve entered, Billy looked up from his phone. He glanced around the room before calling out, “Okay, that’s everyone. Let’s head down. We gotta get an early start tonight, boys.” He clapped his hands together before getting up off the bed. The other guys all started gathering their things. As they walked out the door, Steve bumped Billy’s shoulder with his own.

“How come I was the last person you called?”

Billy winked at him, “Wanted to make sure you had enough time to finish your hair, pretty boy.”

Steve rolled his eyes as they entered the elevator, “You make fun now, but see how you feel when the ladies are all over me and not you.”

They all took their places in the elevator car, Steve and Billy side by side. Steve turned his head to look at Billy, waiting for his response. Billy was still looking forward, but his lips had twisted up in an amused smile, like he was trying to hold back laughter. 

“Remember what I said about assumptions, Stevie?”

That wasn’t the reply he expected. “Yeah, and?”

Billy shook his head, chuckling to himself, “Nothing. Just something to keep in mind.”

Steve wanted to ask what he meant, but he didn’t get a chance as the doors opened in the lobby and Bows started yelling out the license plate number they needed to look for outside. 

The car ride was loud and hectic and Steve forgot he wanted to ask Billy anything by the time they rolled up to their destination. Their destination turned out to be a rooftop bar at one of the flashy hotels on the strip. The line outside was long, but they all had enough money to throw around and they were inside in no time. 

Despite the early hour, the place was crowded and lively. The music was loud and Steve could feel the bass beating through the soles of his feet. They pushed their way through the crowd to the bar and ordered a round of shots to start with. 

They all downed their shots and dispersed pretty quickly after that. Steve returned to the bar once more on his own, but spent most of the night on the dance floor. The music was good and he had just enough alcohol to feel loose. He kept a close eye on the clock, not wanting to miss their curfew. 

When it was getting too close for comfort, he decided he needed to try and find the rest of the guys. He pulled away from the girl he was dancing with, yelling over the music that he had to go. He wasn’t sure if she heard, but she just smiled over her shoulder and didn’t seem too upset when he left. 

He pushed his way through the crowd, but couldn’t see any of the guys he came with. As it had gotten later, the bar was even more crowded than it had been when they’d first arrived. He pushed his way over to a wall so he could have some space to pull out his phone and send off a few texts telling them to meet him by the door. He hoped they were checking their phones. 

He put his phone away and looked up. He scanned the crowd, looking for anyone he recognized, as well as a pathway for himself for the door. The crowd was unforgiving, but in a stroke of luck, he saw Billy leaning against the bar. He had a drink in one hand and his phone, most likely tucked away in some pocket, was nowhere to be seen. Steve rolled his eyes. Did no one else care about being scratched for missing curfew?

He started towards Billy. As he got closer, he was able to see through the crowd and get a better look at the people hanging all over Billy. He was at the center of a group of four women, all of whom had to be at least forty. Billy was leaning back against the bar, his shirt open, chest gleaming with sweat. 

Steve had been right about him wearing eye makeup. It had smudged a bit and was more visible under his eyes. His face was flushed and he had a lazy smile on his face. Steve watched in vague disgust as one of the women trailed a finger down Billy’s bare chest, another one toying with his hair. If he had noticed a stranger in the same position, he would have immediately looked away. But he couldn’t leave without Billy, so he steeled himself and pushed forward, stopping less than a foot in front of them. 

“Stevie!” Billy yelled out excitedly. He lurched forward from the bar and threw his arms around Steve’s shoulders, drink sloshing. Steve stumbled under the sudden onslaught, but quickly righted the two of them and pushed Billy back enough so they could talk face to face. The same woman that had had her hand on Billy’s chest was clinging to his shoulder. The other three were hovering behind him and Steve was doing his best to ignore whatever looks they were sending his way. 

“We need to go,” he yelled. Billy just looked at him, the same grin he’d been using on the women still on his face, “C’mon, curfew.”

Billy upended his drink, pouring the last of it down his throat. Some of the liquid trickled out the edges of the glass and slid down his throat. One of the women watching licked her lips as she watched and Steve didn’t even try to hold in his grimace. Any one of the four of them were old enough to be his or Billy’s mothers. 

Billy slammed the now empty glass down onto the bar before twisting to address his new friends, “Sorry ladies,” he said, “but I’ve gotta head out.”

His words were immediately met with protests and the woman at his shoulder dug her nails into the fabric of his shirt. 

“I know, I know,” he placated, “but I really have to go. Can’t leave Steve here on his own.” He threw one of his sweaty arms around Steve’s shoulder and pulled him into his chest. 

“He can stay, too,” one of the women spoke up and Billy let out a loud, barking laugh. 

“I don’t think he could handle you,” he winked at the woman who had spoken. She giggled behind her glass and took another sip. “It’s been a pleasure, ladies. Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

He turned away from them, tugging Steve along with him. Together, they made their way through until they finally emerged from the crowd by the door. 

“There you are,” Bows said angrily, “you told us to meet you by the door when you weren’t even here.”   
  


“Sorry,” Steve said, shoving passed him, “I had to collect this one,” he jerked his head towards Billy, “and keep him from fucking someone’s mother.” 

The other guys laughed loudly and Billy’s grin only widened, no shame to be found. Steve ignored them and continued on towards the elevator. 

“Really, Hargrove? That’s your type then, moms?”

They all squeezed into the dark elevator. Steve pressed the button for the ground floor and pulled out his phone to check the time. He sighed, they were definitely going to be late. 

“I don’t really have one type of woman I go for, I like to keep my options open,” he shot them all a smarmy grin, “but when I meet some nice,  _ mature _ ladies in town for a girls trip, I’m not gonna turn them down.”

His comments were met with laughter. Steve ignored all of them, choosing instead to call a car. He wasn’t sure why hearing Billy joke like that with teammates was rubbing him the wrong way so much. 

He’d heard some crude things from his teammates before and, as much as hated to admit to it now, he’d participated in it too. But something about Billy talking like that was particularly upsetting. He spent so much time telling Steve to forget his assumptions, and now it was like he was living up to all the worst gossip about him. 

If someone had told him six months earlier that Billy Hargrove liked older women and that he liked them four at a time, Steve probably would have accepted it without question. It fit in with the persona that surrounded him, some of which was fairly earned, but a lot of which had been greatly exaggerated by the rumor mill. 

Of course, it was only recently that Steve learned how exaggerated it was. Billy’s behavior was really no worse than a lot of other guys Steve knew. In fact, he was better than a lot. He was cocky on the ice, but he had the skills to back it up. He liked to go out and party, but so did everyone else. 

But now, it was like he was playing into that persona. Steve didn’t think he knew Billy well enough to be disappointed in him, but he couldn’t help that creeping feeling. He pushed it aside as the elevator doors opened on the ground floor. 

He herded the group out the door and into the black car waiting for them. They crammed themselves in and someone immediately picked up the aux cord. Steve made a mental note to leave the driver a good tip when they got out. 

Steve was squished against the door behind the driver and Billy was sitting next to him in the middle. The whole car was warm from the bodies squeezed in such close space, but Steve was especially aware of the line of heat from shoulder to knee where they were pressed together. 

“Sorry you had to leave your new friends,” Steve said, trying to sound sincere. 

Billy laughed, “Don’t worry, Stevie,” he dropped a heavy hand onto Steve’s knee and squeezed, “you know I’d rather be with you.” He turned to grin at Steve. It was the same expression he’d used on the women, the same one he’d given Steve in the bar. The dark makeup under his eyes made the blue of his irises stand out even in the low light. His skin was still flushed from the heat of the club and the exertion from dancing. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something. What he was trying to say, he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. Billy blinked and then looked away and the moment ended. Steve closed his mouth without saying anything and turned his gaze out the window. 

They drove out of the bright, crowded part of the city and before long, their hotel was in sight. They slipped in just at curfew and Steve hoped no one had noticed. 

They clambered out of the car, through the empty lobby, and into the elevator. Steve leaned heavily against the wall, the alcohol and the grueling schedule catching up with him. As he looked around at the others, he saw that he wasn’t the only one. 

The doors opened on their floor into an empty hallway. Steve mentally cheered, hoping they hadn’t been caught. They made their way to their rooms as quietly as a group of drunk people could and Steve sighed in relief when the door clicked shut behind him. 

He shed his clothes and hopped in the shower to wash the sweat and spilled beer off his body. He rinsed quickly, changed into sweats and a soft t-shirt then collapsed onto the bed. He double checked that his alarm was set for the next morning before finally allowing himself to close his eyes. 

Far too soon, his alarm was going off. He groaned and rolled over to turn it off. Resigning himself to a longer than usual pregame nap, he rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom. When he felt a little more presentable, he went down to the dining room to meet the rest of the team for breakfast. He was relieved to see that he was far from the only one who looked like they’d had a rough night. Clearly his little group hadn’t been the only ones to go out.

He gathered up food on his plate and settled into an empty chair. When he was about halfway through his depressingly generic hotel breakfast, Billy dropped down into the chair next to him. He was in a cozy looking sweatshirt and his hair was tied back from his face. He had prominent dark circles under his eyes, though, Steve figured, some of that could be makeup residue. 

He grunted something that might have been good morning, before turning to focus on his breakfast. They finished eating then all headed back up to their rooms to gather their things before heading to the bus that would take them to the practice facilities. 

Practice itself was grueling. They had a game later that day, so none of the coaches pushed them too hard, but most of the team was tired and hungover, so they weren’t at their best. They got a firm talking to in the locker room after practice before they were sent back to the hotel.

Billy sat next to him on the bus, “Do you want to grab lunch?” he asked. 

“I’m too tired. If you come back to my room, we can order room service, but I’m not going out.”

Billy nodded in acceptance and they spent the rest of the ride back in silence. At the hotel, Billy followed Steve back to his room and immediately flopped down on his back on the bed. Steve didn’t have the energy to yell at him and instead picked up the menu off the table before doing the same. 

“What do you want?”

“Whatever,” Billy answered unhelpfully, “just get two of whatever you want.”

Not in the mood to argue, Steve picked up the phone and did just that. After hanging up, he switched on the TV. He clicked over to HGTV which he hated to admit, but had become his default background noise. Billy glanced over at him and chuckled, but didn’t say anything. 

“How’re you feeling?” Steve asked.

“Shitty. Tired.”

“Yeah, me too. How much did you drink last night? You were worse than me.”

“Ugh,” Billy groaned, “too much. Too much for the night before a game.”

Steve laughed, “I can’t imagine having a night off in Vegas. I don’t think we’d all make it.”

Billy laughed along with him, “Yeah, who knows what would happen?”

They settled into a comfortable silence, both of them looking at the TV even as their minds wandered closer and closer to sleep. They were jolted into alertness by a knock at the door and Steve went to collect the food. They ate mostly in silence and when he finished, Billy moved his plate to the nightstand and settled down into the pillows, eyes closed. 

Steve finished his own meal and gathered up the plates, placing the tray outside the door. When he turned back to the room, Billy was still laying on the bed.

“Billy.”

“Hmm.”

“Billy, c’mon. We’ve both gotta nap.”

“‘M napping.”

“You’re still in my bed, Hargrove.”

“So?” he rolled over onto his side, turning his back to Steve. “Issa big bed. Not moving.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhmm,” Billy nodded, rubbing his cheek against the pillow.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Steve mumbled to himself, but it seemed that Billy was very much not kidding. His only options seemed to be share the bed or physically drag Billy down the hall to his own room. Steve wasn’t morally opposed to the second option, but he really didn’t have the energy. Resigning himself, he walked to the far side of the bed and slid under the covers.

Billy was right, the bed was big. As long as he stayed facing the wall, it was possible to ignore the other person in the bed. He could hear Billy’s gentle breaths, but the sound was calming, in a strange way, and he felt his own breaths slowing to match. Closing his eyes and shuffling down further into the pillow, he quickly drifted off to sleep. 

  
  


When he woke a few hours later, the bed was empty. There was still a dent in the pillow from where Billy had been sleeping, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. His shoes and jacket were gone from the room as well. Steve figured he should be grateful. It probably would have been awkward, waking up in the same bed, once they were both well rested and in their right minds. But he also couldn’t fight the vague sense of disappointment. He’d assumed, when Billy decided that they were going to be napping together, that they’d also be getting ready and heading down to the bus together. Apparently, Billy had had other plans.

Pushing those thoughts out of his head, he focused on getting ready. He packed everything but the necessities back into his suitcase, knowing they had an early flight the next morning and that he’d be too tired to do it after the game. He then changed into his gameday suit and double checked for his phone, wallet, and room key before heading downstairs. 

A few guys were already loitering in the lobby. Steve took a seat in one of the plush chairs and spent a few minutes scrolling on his phone. He glanced up every time the elevator opened, watching as the rest of the team made their way down. 

When Billy stepped out, Steve gave him a smile and waved. Billy stopped walking and a weird expression crossed over his face. It disappeared a second later and he nodded at Steve in acknowledgement. 

Steve expected him to come over, as that had become typical of the two of them. But to his surprise, Billy walked over to a different group of guys and joined in their conversation. Steve watched them for a moment, but Billy didn’t so much as glance in his direction. 

That was fine. Billy was obviously friends with other guys on the team, Steve was too. Most of them were friendly with each other. It was just weird that they’d just shared a bed and now Billy was ignoring him. 

Steve huffed a laugh to himself. It probably wasn’t the first time Billy had shared a bed with someone, left before they woke up, and then didn’t talk to them. But it wasn’t like that. They were friends and it was just a nap. Billy didn’t have to be weird about it. 

Steve returned to his phone and continued messing around until they got the signal to head out. 

On the bus, Steve took his usual seat. Billy shuffled down the aisle a few moments later and his eyes flicked down to meet Steve’s for a second before looking straight ahead. Steve turned his eyes towards the seat in front of him, refusing to show how bothered he was. 

The bus ride to the arena was uneventful, as was their walk out and arrival in the locker room. Warm-ups were nothing special and before long, the first line was facing off at the start of the first. 

When the third line was signaled to go over the boards, all thought about Billy and his weird behavior disappeared. Whatever personal issues were affecting the team had no place on the ice. They were on a line together and that meant they had to play together. They’d done it when Steve had hated Billy and they could do it now. 

They were playing okay. Their passes connected and they were working well together, but they couldn’t seem to find the back of the net. The first period ended with the score still tied at 0-0. And the second. And the third.

They were in the locker room before going into overtime and Steve felt like he was vibrating in place. His body ached from playing a full game and they weren’t done yet.

They headed back out to the ice and the first line took the ice. They weren’t even out there for a full minute before the Knights scored and the home crowd roared in excitement. The Wraiths skated off the ice, heads down, as the Knights crowded around each other, cheering. 

They shuffled back to the visitor’s locker room to shower and change back into their suits. A few of the guys tried to lighten the mood, saying they’d played well, that one point for OT was better than none, but it was a disappointing loss. A disappointing way to end their road trip. 

The bus was quiet on the ride back and everyone went back to their rooms to go to sleep or pack for the flight in the morning. Steve went straight back to his room, not talking to anyone. He was disappointed in how he played and he just wanted to go to sleep.

Once in his room he let himself fall face first onto the bed. He struggled out of his suit until he was in just a t-shirt and boxers and then crawled under the covers. After checking a final time to make sure his alarm was set to make the flight the next morning, he let himself fall into unconsciousness.

  
  


The plane ride back to Indianapolis was quiet, most of them still half asleep and too tired to do much talking or cause any kind of ruckus. They had the next day off for recovery, so when they finally landed and Steve was able to go home, he showered, changed into his most comfortable sweats and that night, he laid down for the first time in days with no alarm set for the next morning.

When he woke, it was late in the morning and he lazed around for a little while longer before finally wandered out of his bedroom and to the kitchen for food. 

He was leaning against the counter munching a bowl of cereal when his calm was interrupted by his phone buzzing with an incoming call. Dustin’s name and photo popped up and he groaned before answering.

“What?” 

“Good morning to you too,” Dustin said, far too chipper. “I’m heading over now, so you better be dressed, or at least wearing pants.”

Steve looked down at himself in a ratty t-shirt and sweats with weird stains on them. “I’m definitely wearing pants, he said, not lying.

“Great. I’ll see you in a little bit. We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Steve wouldn’t admit that he’d completely forgotten Dustin’s plans to come visit, but it had definitely slipped his mind. But it seemed like it was too late to do much about that now. “See you soon. Bye”

He hung up the phone and walked his cereal over to the couch where he could reclaim his usual spot. He left the TV off, choosing instead to enjoy soaking in the sunlight from outside. 

He was jolted out of his stupor a little while later by a loud banging on the door. He pushed himself off the couch and opened the door to Dustin’s grinning face. 

“You could’ve just texted me you were here instead of trying to break the door down,” he said, turning away to let Dustin follow him inside. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d be awake when I got here. You sounded wiped on the phone.”

“Well, here I am. Awake.”

“Barely, it looks like. You also lied about being dressed.”

Steve flopped back down on the couch, “You asked if I was wearing pants,” he gestured to his sweats, “I am. And sorry I’m tired, you planned your invasion of my home the day after I got back from a week long road trip.” 

“I’m not invading, I’m visiting. Now, get dressed, we’re going out.”

“Dustin, I will kill you.” 

“Come on! Nothing crazy, just dinner. We haven’t seen each other in ages. I wanna catch up with my good pal Steve.”

“You mean, you want me to buy you food.”

“Well, that just makes the most sense. Between the two of us, you make a lot more money than I probably ever will. I could never hack it in professional sports, Steve. You know this.”

Steve snorted out a laugh, “Yeah, you got that right.” He sighed, pushing himself back up off the couch, “Gimme a sec to get dressed, alright? And we’re not going anywhere fancy.”

“Sounds good.”

Steve huffed and walked back to his room to change into a pair of jeans and a sweater. He hadn’t been outside yet that day, but he assumed it was cold. He could still see piles of grey snow clinging to the sidewalks and the world outside the window had that certain crispness to it that always promised frigid temperatures. 

He pulled his coat down off the hook in the hallway and called, “You coming?” towards the living room.

“Yeah!” he heard Dustin scramble up off the couch, “where’re we going?”

“Pub a couple blocks away. Zip your coat up, we’re walking.”

“Walking? Steve, it’s below freezing.”

Steve shrugged, “It’s five minutes. You’re the one who wanted to go out.”

“Five minutes is more than enough time to develop frostbite, if it’s cold enough,” Dustin said, but he was zipping his coat up and pulling his gloves on, so Steve let it go.

“I guess we’ll just have to walk fast.”

They made it to the pub in record time. Steve’s leg muscles were protesting the walk, but Dustin hadn’t stopped grumbling the whole time and Steve hid his amused grin in his scarf. 

They were greeted by a rush of warm air and they shed their outer layers once they were seated at a table. Dustin immediately picked up the drink menu and Steve rolled his eyes. 

“So, when do classes start up again?”

“Next week.”

“You looking forward to it, nerd?”

“Yes, Steve. I am. Because I enjoy learning. Though, I will say, the university environment does not facilitate learning for students who thrive in more unconventional environments.”

Steve nodded, “Uh huh. So, you mean, they won’t let you run wild in the engineering labs?”

“They will not.”

“Yeah, I think you have to be a grad student for that.”

“Maybe. We’ll see in a few years I guess.”

“Damn, you’re already considering grad school? You’re heading into your second semester, man.”

“It pays to be thinking about the future. Do you have a plan for once you’ve finally taken one too many hits to the head?”

Steve shuffled in his seat, uncomfortable. He didn’t have a plan. He was still young, but playing a full contact sport, that didn’t mean much. He knew he should give the rest of his life more thought, but it was a daunting task. Luckily, he was saved from having to answer by the waiter appearing at their table to take their drink orders. Steve scrambled, realizing he hadn’t looked at the menu.

“A beer. Whatever you have on tap is fine.”

The waiter nodded, “And for you?”

“I’ll have the same,” Dustin answered. The waiter raised his eyebrows, but he took the drink menu off the table and walked away without a word. 

“What were we talking about again? Oh, right, the future.”

“Right now, the future is the playoffs. I’m not looking much further ahead than that.”

“Mhm. How’s the season going?”

“Pretty good. I’m still pissed about dropping that game in Vegas, but,” he threw up his hands.

“You can’t win them all.”

“No, you cannot.”

“I did see that you’re getting more ice time, so that’s good.”

“Yeah, I’m officially a third liner, which is cool, I guess.”

“Hell yeah it is. More ice time, new line mates. I’ve gotta ask, what’s Billy Hargrove like? Are you two getting along?”

Steve sighed, a few days ago, he would have answered with an immediate yes. But now, he wasn’t sure. Billy had barely spoken a word to him since he disappeared during their shared nap the day before. 

“He’s fine,” Steve settled on. “We’ve been playing on the same line a lot and we’re doing pretty well together.”

“Yeah, but what about off the ice? He seems like a dick.”

“Not really. He has his moments, but he’s actually pretty normal.” He laughed at Dustin’s face, “Sorry to disappoint.”

“I was hoping for some crazy stories.”

“You can’t believe everything you see on Deadspin. Like I said, he has his moments, he drinks a lot when we go out, but for the most part he's a pretty normal guy. He likes home renovation shows.”

“Wait, really? He told you that?”

“He put them on at my place.”

“He came over to your place?”

“Yeah, over the holiday break. We were both still in the city, so we hung out.”

“Are you guys, like, friends now?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I thought we were friends. But then he started acting weird in Vegas.”

“Weird how?”

“Just avoiding me.”

“Did anything happen?”

Steve opened his mouth to say no, but then hesitated. What had happened? They’d gone out together with a few other guys from the team; that wasn’t unusual. Billy had been drinking and talking to women, that definitely wasn’t weird. He’d also been easily pulled away from said women and had told Steve he’d rather go with him. 

That. That actually was pretty normal. Billy was always the first on the dance floor to try and find a pretty girl, but more often than not, Steve saw him head home in a cab, either by himself or with some of the other guys. 

What had been really unusual was napping together. He hadn’t shared a bed with a friend since he was a little kid. But it had been Billy’s idea, it didn’t make sense for him to be mad about it.

Dustin was still waiting for a response and Steve felt weird admitting that he and Billy had shared a bed.

“No, nothing out of the ordinary happened. I don’t know what’s up with him.”

“Huh. Maybe he took one too many hits to the head.”

At that moment, the waiter returned to their table, drinks in hand. He dropped a pint glass of beer in front of Steve and a tall glass of water in front of Dustin. Steve’s weird mood was immediately wiped away at the disappointed look on Dustin’s face and he threw back his head and laughed. 

  
  


The next day, they had practice in the morning and a home game that night. When Steve left for practice that morning, Dustin was still asleep in the guest room. He was awake when Steve returned and they had lunch together and Dustin confirmed that he was coming to the game before Steve had to lay down for his pregame nap. 

They won the game that night, though Steve didn’t tally a single point. Billy got an assist and he didn’t say a single word to Steve off the ice. When they got back to the locker room, Steve texted Dustin to stay in his seat and when the arena cleared out, someone would bring him down to the locker room. 

Steve showered and changed quickly and when he emerged from the locker room, Dustin was already waiting for him outside. 

“We’re going home to change,” he said as Dustin fell into step behind him, “and then we’re gonna meet some of the guys downtown. We’ll try to get you in, but no promises.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Surprisingly enough, it was fine. Shuffled in in the middle of the team, Dustin’s fake didn’t stand out. The international IDs usually gave bouncers more trouble and those were the ones they tended to look at more closely. His fake address, in Maryland of all places, fit right in with the other guys from North America whose IDs were spread out from across the US and Canada. Steve was pretty sure he was the only guy on the team who had an actual Indiana drivers license. 

They crammed themselves into a table and a few guys headed off to the bar to get the first round of drinks. 

“Feeling cool yet?” Steve asked, “getting to hang out with the big kids.”

“You’re not cool, Steve. You’ve been lying to yourself since middle school.”

The guys close enough to them to hear all laughed, but Steve just shook it off.

“How would you even know? When I was in middle school, you were still playing in sandboxes.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t have friends your own age.”

The guys laughed again and someone even reached over the table to give Dustin a high five. Steve just rolled his eyes and accepted the beer that was handed to him, taking a big sip. 

Billy was sitting across from Steve and two people down. He was chatting with the people around him and hadn’t so much as looked in Steve’s direction. That was definitely a change. Even before they’d been friends, Billy had somehow always wound up near Steve. 

But if he wanted to keep his distance, that wasn’t Steve’s problem. At least, that was what he told himself. He tried to stay immersed in the conversation around him, but he couldn’t help his eyes flicking over to Billy every few minutes. 

He finished his drink before anyone else at the table and squeezed his way out towards the bar. Steve watched him go, but soon lost sight of him in the crowd. Deciding to put it out of his mind, he turned back to the table and threw himself into the conversation. 

He spent most of the night at the table, talking and laughing with Dustin and the rest of the guys. Dustin fit in well enough and Steve didn’t have to worry about making sure he wasn’t feeling left out. They all had a few more drinks before heading home. It wasn’t a wild night for any of them, but it was fun. Both Steve and Dustin were grinning as they stumbled into a cab together. 

It wasn’t until they were halfway home and Steve was half asleep that he realized he hadn’t seen Billy since he disappeared after his first drink.

  
  


He did see Billy again the next morning at practice. He had a hickey on his neck and a scowl on his face. He barely spoke to anyone in the locker room. On the ice, his behavior fluctuated wildly. One second, he was gazing into space and the next he was playing like a man possessed. They were all used to his over the top behavior, but this was different. This wasn’t his usual loud chirping or excessive cellies. He was playing to win, to hurt. Throwing hits and taking shots like he had a personal vendetta against every person and piece of equipment on the ice. 

Steve wasn’t the only one who noticed and at one point, he saw Billy get pulled aside and spoken to. Steve couldn’t hear what was said, but he saw Billy nodding along. As soon as he turned away, though, his scowl slipped back into place. 

When they were finally cut loose, Billy stormed into the locker room and shed his equipment. He showered in minutes and was out the door before half the team had even finished stripping their gear off. 

Steve watched him go before making his own way to the shower. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he couldn’t run after him while he was only half dressed. He considered texting, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He couldn’t ask to hang out while still entertaining Dustin and he had a feeling that Billy wouldn’t have said yes anyway. Trying to put it out of his mind, he focused on getting dressed.

Dustin was on his couch when he arrived home. The TV was on, but his attention was focused on the phone in his hand. Steve pulled his hat off and threw it at Dustin, causing him to drop the phone on his face. 

“Hey!”

“Don’t waste electricity. If you’re not watching it, turn the TV off.”

“I’m watching it!”

“Uh huh.”

Dustin shuffled over so Steve could sit on the other end of the couch. “Do you wanna go grab lunch,” Dustin asked hopefully, “all the food you have here sucks.”

“I do have a meal plan I’m supposed to stick to, you know. You can order something if you want, but I’m not eating out.”

“Fine. What’s your address here?”

Steve rattled off the answer as Dustin typed it in on his phone. Steve nudged him with his foot, “When are you heading back?”

“Later this afternoon.”

“Really? Already?” 

“Yeah. I’m going back to Hawkins for a few days, then I have to head back to school.”

Steve thought for a moment, “Do you know when your spring break is yet?”

“I’d have to double check, but I’m pretty sure it’s the end of March.”

“Are you going away?”

“How long have we known each other, Steve? Do I really seem like a party in Cancun kind of person?”

“I don’t know, I’m just asking because if you’re around the last weekend in March, we’re having family skate. If you wanna come.”

He looked up at Dustin, who was staring at him, mouth gaping.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? Why would I lie about this?”

Instead of answering any of Steve’s questions, Dustin threw himself across the couch to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, “Aw, Steve! I knew you were never really as annoyed by me as you pretended to be! You love me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, patting his back, “Robin’s coming too, so don’t feel too special”

“That’s okay. Robin’s awesome. We’re gonna have such a good time. The rest of your team and all their lame families aren’t gonna know what hit them.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be really amazed by how many times you fall on your ass.”

“No way. I’m gonna practice.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, “If you say so. I can’t wait to see it.

  
  
  
  


Things went back to normal after Dustin left. Steve returned to his usual routines of practices and games. They were still winning more than they were losing and everyone was feeling good. 

Whatever weird mood Billy had been in for those few days seemed to have disappeared without explanation. He was back to his usual self. 

He, Steve, and some of the other younger guys were out to lunch together when the topic of the all star break came up. 

“I swear,” Bows said, through a mouthful of food, “Sasha’s gonna break his own leg just to get out of going again.”

“Nah, he’s not gonna let Alexei go alone. His hatred for the all star game is outweighed by his need to be everyone’s mother.”

The table laughed. Billy raised his glass in a toast, “To being a bunch of mediocre fucks who don’t have to worry about that shit.”

“To mediocrity,” everyone cheered, clanging their glasses together. 

Bows took a long sip of his drink, “Hey, I’m down with being mediocre if it means I get a week off.” They all nodded in agreement. “Because a week off means some time to party. I’m heading to Miami and if any of you losers want, you’re welcome to join me.”

“Hell yeah,” said Billy. 

More agreements came from around the table and Steve added his own “yeah, I’m down,” to the group. 

“All right, then, it’s settled. All star break in Miami, here we come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey now
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry I haven't been replying to comments, I'm trying to be better and know that I read and appreciate every single one. Also, a bts look at the research for this chapter:
> 
> Me: What's the weather like in January? Do people still go to the beach? What do you do for fun? Where do you like to hang out? Where do you go out on the weekends?  
> My sister, who lives in Miami: Why are you asking me this??   
> Me:.......don't worry about it

The next week flew by, and before they knew it, they were all boarding a flight to Miami. It was a bit weird, flying on a regular plane, not the team’s private one, but they all settled into their first class seats without any trouble. 

Flying took less than three hours and soon enough, they were checking into their hotel. They were sharing a two bedroom suite, two beds in each room. After napping, showering, and getting ready, they were out the door and heading towards their first bar. 

The whole city was alive. People were out and drinking and dancing and it was a far cry from the frigid winter they’d left behind in Indianapolis. It didn’t take long for all of them to get caught up in the atmosphere. The music was loud and the drinks never stopped. The crowded dance floor was hot and Steve could feel sweat dripping down his neck. They weren’t at the same bar they’d started at and Steve wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened. 

He shoved his way out of the crowd, trying to get a moment to breath. He leaned against the wall for a second, watching the crowd move, before he felt someone knock into his shoulder. He looked over and saw Billy leaning against the wall next to him. Billy grinned at him and forced a shot into his hand.

They downed their shots together and Billy let out a loud whoop. 

“Are we good, then?” Steve asked. His tongue felt clumsy in his mouth and he had to concentrate extra hard to make sure his words came out clear.

“‘Course we’re good. We’re partying in fucking Miami.”

“No,” Steve shook his head, “not  _ us, _ ” he waved his hand towards the rest of the club, “us,” he waved a hand between the two of them. “You were avoiding me.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you were. You left while I was sleeping then you wouldn’t talk to me. Then you disappeared at the bar and showed up at practice all angry.”

“I was working on some personal shit. It had nothing to do with you. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t believe you,” Steve said. He grabbed Billy’s shoulder and pulled him closer so they were face to face staring each other in the eyes “I think you’re lying.”

Billy’s eyes flicked down for a second, then back up to his face and Steve was suddenly aware of how close they were. Even in the hot, humid air of the club, Steve could swear he felt the heat radiating off Billy’s body, the soft puffs of breath between them. 

“I’m not lying,” Billy said slowly. 

“You promise? You still like me?”

Billy huffed out a laugh, the serious expression on his face disappearing, “I feel like I should be asking you that. I don’t have any reason to hate you.”

“I don’t have any reason to hate you either. Listen,” he put a hand on either one of Billy’s shoulders, “I’m not mad anymore. We’re friends, yeah?”

Billy stared at him for long enough that Steve wondered if maybe he hadn't heard him over the music. Steve was about to repeat himself when Billy sighed heavily, “yeah, Stevie, I know. We’re friends. Now, come on. I need another drink.”

He dragged Steve back to the bar and Steve went along happily. 

  
  


Steve woke up the next morning not happy. The thin sliver of sunlight coming through the curtains had somehow landed directly across his face and it was not helping the pounding in his head. He groaned and rolled over. His mouth was dry and tasted disgusting, but as much as he wanted water, he wanted to stay horizontal more. 

He cracked his eyes open just enough to look at the other bed and he saw Billy sprawled out on top of the covers, still asleep. Deciding that that was the right idea, Steve closed his eyes again and smushed his face into the pillow. 

They finally dragged themselves out of bed in the early afternoon and headed to lunch and then the beach. It was a much more low-key than the day before and after a late dinner with a few drinks, they went back to the hotel. 

The third day, they rented a boat and spent the day lounging on the deck, swimming and drinking beer. Steve was pleasantly buzzed when he approached Billy on the deck. Billy was stretched out on a towel, dark sunglasses obscuring his face. Steve dropped down next to him and Billy didn’t say anything, but a lazy smile spread across his face.

“Enjoying the sun?” Steve asked.

“You know it,” Billy stretched and sat up. “This is what I’ve missed living in fuckin’ Indiana. The sun, the ocean, the freedom of it all,” he sighed contentedly. 

“Come on, we’re not so bad up north.”

Billy pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. He turned to look at Steve, his whole body loose and relaxed in a way Steve rarely saw. He flicked his eyes up and down Steve’s body, taking him in, judging.

“No,” he finally replied, “you’re not bad at all.” 

“Hey, boys!” Bows yelled loudly, stepping into sight, waving his phone. “Remember those girls I met the other night?”

“No,” Billy answered, sliding his glasses back into place. 

“Whatever, not important. They invited us to come to some pool party tonight, you guys in?”

Steve shrugged, “Yeah.”

“Me too.”

“Okay, great I’ll let ‘em know.”

As he walked away, Steve chuckled, “I don’t know if I’m ready for another night out.”

Billy hummed, “I’m sure you’ll find something to do.”

  
  


After the boat docked, they headed back to the hotel to shower and change. As they were all getting ready to head out the door, Billy spoke up, saying he was going to stay behind.

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, man. Sorry. I woke up from my nap feeling a little off. I’ve got a headache, I think it’s better if I just rest tonight.”

“Do you need anything?” Steve asked, “I can stay if you-”

“No,” Billy cut him off, “go, have fun. I’ll be fine. Probably just dehydrated. I’m gonna drink some water, then go back to bed.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am. Now, go.” He smiled, “You all have to do a shot for me.”

“You got it, man. Feel better.”

  
  


The pool party wound up being pretty fun. The girls were cool and Steve spent a while talking to one of them. He asked for her number and she happily gave it.

Bows, unsurprisingly, left with her friend and Steve, who’d been keeping his drinking to a minimum, decided to head back to the hotel. It was still relatively early, but Steve was pretty wiped from spending all day out in the sun. 

All the lights were off when he arrived and he tiptoed into the room, trying to be quiet. He didn’t want to wake Billy, if he was asleep. He opened the door to their room as quietly as he could. The lights from the city outside were shining in through the open window. Despite the hour, the room was well lit and Steve was able to clearly see that Billy’s bed was empty.

Pulling out his phone, he shot off a quick text:

_ Whered you go?? _

He dropped his phone on the nightstand and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He changed into a pair of sweats and opened his phone again once he was lying down. There was no answer. Unsettled, he put the phone back down on the nightstand. 

Billy was a grown man. He was allowed to leave, if he wanted to. Still, it was weird and it made Steve feel uneasy. He grabbed his phone again, but there was still nothing. For a second, he considered calling, but it seemed like too much. Putting the phone down a final time, he rolled over and closed his eyes, still feeling uneasy about the whole situation. 

  
  


Steve woke the next morning and blinked his eyes open. The first thing he saw was Billy stretched out on the other bed. Steve let out a loud sigh of relief before rolling out of bed and heading to the bathroom. 

As he emerged and got dressed, Billy remained soundly asleep. He was shirtless in a pair of basketball shorts and there was a bruise on his side that Steve didn’t remember seeing the previous day when he was in his bathing suit. He figured he’d ask about it once Billy woke up. Right after he asked where the hell he’d gone the night before after telling them all he wasn’t feeling well. 

Grabbing his phone and his room key, Steve headed out to go get breakfast. As he waited for the elevator, he checked his phone and saw that Billy had texted him back at some point in the early hours of the morning:

_ Went for a walk _

  
  


When Steve returned to the room, Billy was gone again. He sighed, at least it wasn’t the middle of the night this time. He texted him again:

_ You gonna disappear for the rest of this trip? _

As Steve watched, the three dots popped up.

_ Im at the beach _ , Billy replied, which wasn’t an answer. But before Steve could type that, another message popped up,  _ Do you wanna meet for lunch? _

“Good, you’re still alive,” Steve mumbled to himself. He replied in affirmative and Billy responded with the time and directions to a place called Bodega. 

When Steve arrived, Billy was already there. They settled at a table outside with their food and a margarita each before Steve started asking questions. 

“So, where did you go last night?”

“I told you, I went for a walk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“I woke up from my nap and felt wide awake,” he shrugged, “you guys were already out, so I figured I’d wander around for a little bit on my own.”

“Uh huh. You know, if you didn’t want to come out with us or if you wanted to do something on your own, you can say that.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “Thanks, but I know I don’t need your permission to do anything. I told you I took a walk, so I took a fucking walk.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he took a bite of his food, “where’d that bruise on your side come from?”

“Huh?”

“You have a bruise. I don’t remember seeing it yesterday.”

“It’s probably from when Bows and I were horsing around on the boat. Is the interrogation over?”

“Yes, okay. What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

“We can go back to the beach after this. Then, I’m going out tonight.”

“Okay,” Steve said, “sounds like a plan.”

  
  


They hung out on the beach for a few hours before heading back to the hotel. The other guys begged off with their own plans, so when Billy and Steve went out to a club, it was just the two of them. 

They got in and Billy headed straight to the bar. The atmosphere around them was indistinguishable from the countless other bars and clubs Steve had been in. The lights were low, the music was loud, and the space was crammed with people wearing as little clothes as possible. 

Billy was wearing what Steve figured was his signature going out look. His shirt was open over his chest and his jeans looked painfully tight. The eye makeup was back and Steve felt weird next to him. Like were both dressed for very different nights. 

Billy ordered for the both of them. Steve didn’t hear what he asked for, but soon a glass was being pressed into his hand. Billy knocked their glasses together in cheers and then they both took a big sip. 

Steve almost choked as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. Whatever it was Billy had ordered, it was way stronger than he’d expected. Billy slapped him on the back, that hungry grin already in place.

“C’mon, Stevie, we’ve got the whole night ahead of us.” He took another long swallow of his drink before tugging Steve onto the dance floor. 

They danced for what felt like ages, being pulled apart and pushed together again as the crowd moved around them. Every time Billy emptied his glass, he’d leave whoever he was dancing with, whether it was Steve or a stranger, to head back to the bar. 

Steve tried to keep up with him at first, before deciding he needed to pace himself. The next time Billy said he was going to the bar, Steve told him he was alright. Billy nodded, before heading off. That continued, Steve having one more drink for Billy’s three more and it quickly became clear that Billy was far drunker than he was. 

The next time Billy tried to head to the bar, Steve grabbed his arm to hold him back, “I think you’ve had enough,” he shouted over the music. Billy tried to shrug him off, but Steve held on tight. He pulled Billy close, yelling right in his ear, “C’mon, stay. Dance with me.”

Billy stopped trying to pull away. Instead, he turned back to look at Steve. His eyes were glazed over, but he was still clearing looking at Steve, assessing. Slowly, a grin spread onto his face.

“Alright,” he said, words slurring, “I’ll stay and dance with you, pretty boy.” Steve rolled his eyes at the nickname, but he figured being called names was better than Billy trying to drink himself to death. 

Billy threw his arms over Steve’s shoulders and pulled him closer until their faces were just inches apart, “You asked me to dance, so dance.”

Steve let himself be led to the beat of the music. The crowd around them crushed them together and he could feel the heat from Billy’s body sinking in through his shirt. They stayed pressed close even as the people around them moved. Billy dropped his head forward onto Steve’s shoulder and his left hand dropped down to grip him by the waist. Steve’s breath hitched and Billy raised his head at the noise. 

Their faces were closer than ever. Billy’s eyes were only half open, but Steve could still see as they dropped down to his lips then back up. Before Steve could even register what that meant, Billy surged forward and connected their lips. 

The hand on Steve’s waist tightened and pulled their hips together, his other hand tangled in Steve’s hair. In shock, Steve didn’t know what to do but give into the sensation and kiss back. They stood there, in the middle of the dancefloor, pressed together from head to toe. 

Steve kissed back until his conscious mind kicked back into gear and he pulled away. Billy tried to chase after him, but Steve held him in place.

“Billy, what the hell?”

“What? You asked me to dance, pretty boy, c’mon.”

“No, Billy. You’re really drunk and really confused. Let’s go, we’re leaving.”

Billy let himself be led out of the club. Steve called a car to come pick them up and as they waited on the sidewalk, Billy leaned heavily into his side. His eyes were closed and when the car finally arrived, Steve had to help him sit in his seat and buckle up like a child. 

At the hotel, Steve threw Billy’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him through the lobby and up into their room. He was practically asleep standing up, so Steve just threw him onto his bed.

Steve tugged off Billy’s shoes before going about getting himself ready for bed. His own head was swimming from the alcohol and even as he tried to lie down, his mind was racing.

Billy had kissed him.  _ Billy  _ had kissed him. Billy had kissed  _ him _ . He was confused and tired and drunk and he had so many questions. Billy had been absolutely wasted, did he even know what he was doing? Did he think he was dancing with a woman? But no, he’d said pretty  _ boy. _ He knew he was dancing with a guy, and still kissed him. Was he so drunk he didn’t realize it was Steve? That still meant he was okay with kissing another guy. Did he know it was Steve? Why hadn’t he cut Billy off earlier?

He rolled over, squashing his face into the pillow. He willed his mind to quiet down so he could get to sleep. Eventually, thankfully, his own exhaustion caught up with him and he slipped into unconsciousness.

  
  


When he woke the next morning, he silently thanked his past self for having the foresight to cut himself off early. He had a slight headache and his mouth tasted gross, but overall, he’d had far worse hangovers in the past.

He rolled over onto his back and caught sight of Billy in the other bed, still in his clothes from the night before. Immediately, everything came flooding back to him. 

Billy had kissed him. 

What. The.  _ Fuck. _

Billy had kissed him and then passed out and Steve had no idea what to do. He crawled out of bed quietly and locked himself in the bathroom, turning on the shower. He climbed in and let the hot water wash away the sweat and alcohol last from last night. Unfortunately, it could do nothing about the memories.

Memories of drinking and dancing together, laughing and having fun, of the night wearing on, them getting closer, their bodies pressing together, the kiss-

Steve almost slipped on the shower floor. He grabbed the handle of the faucet and turned the temperature down until it was icy, trying to shock himself out of it. He shivered under the deluge, but forced himself to finish his shower in the cold water.

He dried and dressed quickly. He looked at his damp hair in the mirror, but decided that fixing it wasn’t worth the risk of turning the hair dryer on. If the noise woke Billy up, they’d have to talk sooner, rather than later, and Steve wanted to put it off for as long as he could. He didn’t even know what he’d begin to say. 

After quickly scrubbing his hair with a towel, he went back into the room, grabbed his things, then was out the door. He ate a quick breakfast at the hotel before heading to the beach by himself. 

He tried to relax and clear his mind, but he still had no idea what to do. Even if he somehow managed to avoid speaking to Billy for the rest of the trip, they still saw each other almost every day. They played together, they hung out together, it would be impossible to avoid him forever. 

His failed attempt at relaxation was interrupted in the early afternoon when he got a text from Bows:

_ yo where the fuck are you?? come meet us, _ along with directions to a restaurant where he assumed they were having lunch. 

Not having any good excuse to refuse, he headed in their direction, trying to plan out what he was going to do about Billy. No good ideas occurred to him and he was sweating by the time he entered the restaurant. 

Billy didn’t even look at him as he entered. He was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, his hair tied back and he was wearing his sunglasses inside the restaurant. He looked so incredibly, miserably, hungover, that if it were under any other circumstances, Steve would have laughed at him. 

As he sat down, Bows looked at him and asked loudly, “Man, what the fuck did you guys do last night? This guy,” he waved a hand at Billy, “blacked the fuck out.”

As the words registered, Steve’s eyes widened in shock, “You blacked out?”

Billy rubbed at his temples, nodding, “Yeah. I remember being at the club, dancing, random flashes of it, but not a lot. I don’t remember leaving at all.”

“Oh,” Steve said. If Billy couldn’t even remember, it changed everything. There didn’t have to be any awkward confrontations, or questions, or explanations. Steve could just forget about it and they could both move on.

“Yeah, oh,” Bows interrupted his thoughts, “so what the fuck happened?”

“Not much, really,” Steve said, trying to be casual, “we drank, we danced. You drank more than I did,” he nodded at Billy.

“Obviously.”

“I cut you off eventually. Not soon enough, I guess. You were practically falling asleep standing up, man” he said, which wasn’t a lie. He was just omitting part of the story. A part that wasn’t important, really. That none of the others would benefit from knowing. “I dragged your ass outside and got us a ride back to the hotel. Had to carry you up to the room.”

“Damn,” Billy said, “it’s been a while since I’ve drank like that.”

“Why the fuck did you?” Bows asked.

Billy shrugged, “Felt like it, I guess.”

“Well, that was fucking stupid. Let me tell you guys about my night. I had a great time without having to be carried home like this fuckin’ lightweight over here.”

While he spoke, Steve watched Billy. His face was obscured by his glasses, so it was impossible to read his expression. He was so quiet that Steve thought he might actually be asleep. 

Steve still couldn’t believe his luck. Billy didn’t remember a thing. Steve never had to say a word about it. Right? It’s not like it would change anything between them. Billy didn’t even know it happened, Steve should just forget about it.

Yeah, his teammate had kissed him, but it was an accident. He’d been super drunk. It didn’t mean anything. Billy probably didn’t even know it was him at that point. He knew he’d been kissing a guy and he’d still been okay with it. More than okay. And that was fine, Steve wasn’t judging. But Billy had been really drunk and had maybe just outed himself. And Steve knew. And Billy didn’t know that he knew. Should he say something about that? But then Billy would ask questions about how he knew. Should Steve lie?

His head was hurting. 

He wanted to go home and go to sleep and wake up in a world where he didn’t have to deal with any of those questions. Too bad that didn’t seem like an option. 

The group of them stuck together for the rest of the day. Billy spent most of the time half asleep and grumpy. When they went to the beach, he stayed on the sand under their rented umbrella. 

Again, Steve was struck with how funny it would look if he could think about anything other than the kiss when he looked at Billy. He was trying to play it casual, act like nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t find it in himself to chirp and laugh like everything was normal. Instead, he spent as much time as he could in the water, far away from Billy. 

They all went out to dinner together that night. Billy was more lively than he had been at lunch, but he was still more silent than usual. He, at least, had the excuse of being extremely hung over and tired. Steve had no such excuse, but he knew he was acting strange.

He couldn’t look at Billy for more than a few seconds, let alone talk to him. Dinner was awkwardly quiet and afterwards, they all headed back to the hotel. No one even suggested going out, for which Steve was grateful. 

Until they got back to the hotel and remembered that he was sharing a room with Billy. 

It was still pretty early when they got back. They both changed into their sleeping clothes, but neither was actually going to bed. 

Steve was laying down, scrolling through his phone. Billy switched on the TV and flipped through the channels before settling on a movie Steve didn’t recognize. Neither of them said a word and Steve couldn’t tell if it was awkward or if it was just him. 

Billy had no reason for it to be awkward. He was probably just tired, that’s why he wasn’t talking. And Steve was pretty tired, too. 

“I’m going to sleep,” he announced out of nowhere.

“Okay,” Billy said, glancing over at him, “do you want me to turn the TV off?”

“No, no. You’re fine. I’m just gonna, y’know,” he switched off the light on his nightstand, “good night.”

Billy was still looking at him strangely, “Good night.”

Steve rolled onto his side so his back was facing Billy. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he wasn’t tired enough. Plus, the lights on Billy’s side of the room and the TV were still on. Resigning himself to a long while of staring at the wall, he sighed and settled in.

  
  


The next day was their final full day. They all slept in and spent the morning lazing around the suite, choosing to order room service rather than go down to breakfast. They went out a little bit in the afternoon for lunch and just to wander around, but they headed back to the hotel pretty early.

Their flight was early in the afternoon the next day, but they had to be up and checked out in the morning. None of them suggested going out to bars or clubs. Instead, they got a quick dinner out then went back to pack all their things. 

Steve thought he did a good job of acting normal until they got back to the hotel in the evening. They were both moving around each other silently, gathering up their things and packing them away. The door to the common area was shut. It was just the two of them in their room and Steve was hyper aware of Billy, of the space they were sharing. 

He kept stopping what he was doing to watch Billy move around. A few times, Billy glanced up and caught him staring. Every time, Steve would immediately blink and look away. 

Finally, after the fourth or fifth time it happened, Billy called him out for it.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing, I wasn’t looking at anything.”

Billy sighed, “Steve, what’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“You clearly do, you’ve been staring at me this whole time.”

“I just, it’s, y’know,” Steve dropped onto the bed and put his head in his hands, “I don’t know, man.”

“Steve,” Billy said, sitting down on his own bed so they were facing each other, “What is it?”

“It’s about what happened the other night.”

“The other night?”

“When you blacked out. You did something. You did-and now I know and I don’t think you know that I know and-”

“Steve,” Billy interrupted him, “I know.”

“You know?” Steve asked, confused.

Billy looked away, but answered, “I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t remember much of that night. I really did drink too much. I don’t remember leaving, but I remember bits from the club. I remember dancing. With you. And I remember,” he wrung his hands together in his lap, “I remember that I kissed you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not, uh, I’m not mad. Or anything. You’re still my friend and I support you.”

“You support me?”

“Yeah. I don’t care what you’re into. You went out, got drunk, you were dancing with a hot guy,” he tried to joke, but quickly powered on when Billy didn’t so much as chuckle, “and you kissed him. You were so wasted, I’m not surprised you didn’t even realize it was me.”

“Steve, shut up.” Steve shut up. Billy scrubbed his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking and for a second, Steve thought Billy was crying, until he dropped his hands and Steve saw that he was laughing.

“Fuck it,” he said, not looking a Steve, “you’ve already got that much, I may as well put it all out there.” He looked back at Steve, “I knew who I was kissing.”

“You-what?”

“I knew it was you. I would have never, ever done it if I hadn't drank so fucking much, but yeah, I knew it was you. And yeah, you figured it out, I’m into guys. But more specifically, I’m into you. I’m sorry I kissed you. I swear, I’ve never watched you in the locker room, or anything creepy like that. But you deserve to know the truth. I’m sorry I made you so uncomfortable. I swear, I didn’t mean to. We don’t have to let this change anything. We can still be friends, if you want.”

Steve stared at him, mouth gaping. Billy just kept saying things to him, but nothing was registering. He was still stuck on  _ I’m into you. _ It kept ringing around in his head. Billy had known he was kissing Steve. He’d wanted to kiss Steve. He probably wanted to kiss Steve while he was sober. Had wanted to kiss Steve for who knows how long. Maybe he still wanted to kiss Steve right now. 

That last thought struck some kind of chord in Steve. Before he could question it or rationalize it, Steve was up. He crossed the distance between their beds in two steps and captured Billy’s lips in another kiss.

Billy was frozen for a moment before kissing back. His hand tangled itself in Steve’s hair, just as it had done at the club. Billy used his other hand to pull him forward until Steve was practically in his lap. Steve was trying to figure out how to maneuver out of his awkward position, when Billy took care of it for him. 

He used the hand in Steve’s hair and the hand on his side to push Steve onto the bed next to him on his back. Steve’s legs were still hanging off the edge, but before he could shuffle further up, Billy swung himself over Steve’s midsection, his thighs on either side of Steve’s hips. He ducked down and kissed Steve again.

Steve kissed him back. He was so confused. It felt good and he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he’d instigated it, why he was letting it continue. He could feel himself start to panic and Billy must have noticed it too, because he pulled away.

Steve had no idea what his expression looked like, but whatever it was, it made Billy sigh heavily and then swing his leg back over Steve, so he was no longer straddling him. 

“What?” was the only thing Steve could think to say, “what just happened?”

“Nothing,” Billy said, shaking his head, “nothing important. Forget about it,” his voice sounded odd, but Steve couldn’t even begin to think about it. He watched as Billy stood and went back to putting his things away.

Steve sat up, still incredibly confused. Billy stayed silent as Steve stared at his back.

When it became clear that Billy wasn’t about to say anything else, Steve stood numbly and finished packing up his things in silence. He continued glancing up every few minutes, but Billy always managed to keep his back to him. 

Steve didn’t think he’d ever been more uncomfortable in his life.

When they finished, it was still early, but Steve would rather lie in the dark for an extra hour than have to sit in silence with Billy while they were both awake. 

Billy gave no clues to his thoughts, but he didn’t argue when Steve turned out the lights. They both settled in, facing away from each other. After a moment, Steve spoke up,

“Good night, Billy,” he said. 

There was a beat of silence. And then another. Steve wondered if Billy had already fallen asleep or if he was ignoring him. He put his head down on his pillow and closed his eyes. After a moment, he heard a soft, “Good night, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's no actual hockey in this chapter, but I hope everything else made up for it :)
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	8. Chapter 8

Steve was jolted out of a nap on his couch by a loud banging. He stumbled to his feet, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. It took him a second to realize it was someone pounding on his front door. Still half asleep, he tried to remember if he was expecting anyone. He didn’t think so.

It was one of their rare days off and he’d been taking the time to relax. The sky outside was dark and he checked what time it was on his phone. It was late in the evening and he also saw that he had missed several texts from Billy. 

_ Are you free today? We need to talk _

_ Stop fucking ignoring me _

_ I swear to god Steve _

_ You better be home, I’m coming over _

_ I’m here _

_ Open your fucking door _

Steve swallowed dryly. That answered the question of who was at his door. The banging hadn’t stopped yet and Steve braced himself as he went to open it. As expected, he was met with a furious Billy Hargrove. He shoved passed Steve and stomped into the apartment. Steve followed helplessly after him

“We need to talk.” 

“Okay,” Steve said, nervous.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven-”

“Yes, you have,” Billy dropped onto the couch, and scrubbed his face in his hands. “Look, I get it. I’m not trying to force myself on you or anything. And if you don’t want to be friends, that’s, that’s fine. But it’s starting to affect our chemistry on the ice and we can’t have that. We can’t let our issues fuck it up for the whole team. 

“I’m trying me best, man,” he threw his hands up, “tell me what else I need to do. So we can go back to normal.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. The truth was, he had been avoiding Billy. He couldn’t help it. Every time he so much as looked at him, he couldn’t help but think of their kiss. Of both their kisses. The second of which he had initiated. He still couldn’t figure out why he’d done that.

And Billy was right that it was affecting their play. They were fumbling passes, getting frustrated and distracted. They were playing worse than they had when they’d hated each other. 

“I, I don’t know how to go back to normal,” he finally answered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is my fault. If I hadn’t drank so fucking much,” he shook his head. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to pretend it never happened? To stay as far away as possible? Try to get Coach to change the lines? What? Do you just want to tell me to fuck off? You wanna take a swing? I’ll give you one free.”

“What? No, I’m not gonna hit you. Are you insane?”

“Maybe, depends on who you ask. And I don’t know what you want and you’re not giving me anything.”

Steve sighed and dropped onto the opposite end of the couch. “I want things to go back to normal. I want us to be friends. And I definitely don’t want to hit you.”

“Figured I’d offer.”

“Why? Do you think you should be hit?” Steve asked, horrified.

“No, Christ, I got over the whole self-hatred thing ages ago. But,” he continued, “I’ve also spent most of my life in locker rooms and around some pretty shitty people. I’m sure you’ve heard some of the same shit I have.”

“You really think I’m like that?”

“I don’t know! It’s not like we’ve ever talked about it. I figure, you can get it out of your system, then we can go on like normal and start scoring some fucking goals again.”

“I’m not gonna beat you up for the sake of team chemistry.”

“Who said you’d be beating me up? I said I’d give you one free hit. After that, I’m hitting back.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head, “God, you’re really something.”

“You know it,” he laughed. “Look, if you’re not mad, if you’re not disgusted, then why were you avoiding me?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered honestly, “I just felt awkward, I guess.”

“Awkward? Seriously?”

“...Yeah.”

Billy looked at him in disbelief before laughing and shaking his head, “If I tell you not to worry about it, can you stop being awkward?”

“Uh, maybe.”

“Okay, this is me telling you to stop being so fucking awkward. If I can get over it, so can you.”

“Right, yeah, getting over it.”

“Great, so we’re good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Billy nodded, then laughed again, “I swear, Stevie, no one’s ever given me as much trouble as you.”

“Listen, I know it’s hard not to get caught up in all this,” he gestured towards himself.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”   
  


“Hey, you’re the one with a crush.”

“A crush? What’re we, 12 years old? And no one’s ever accused me of having great judgement, so maybe don’t take it as a compliment.”

“I’m a catch and you know it.”

“Whatever,” he said dismissively, but he still had a smile on his face, so Steve was pretty sure that they were okay. “I can get going, if we’re all good here.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve said quickly, before Billy could finish getting off the couch. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, we haven’t hung out in ages. I’ll even let you put on one of those shitty HGTV shows you love so much.”

“You like those too, don’t even try to deny it.”

“I tolerate them because I’m a good friend,” Steve lied, “so is that a yes? You’ll stay?”

Billy checked the time, “Yeah, I can stay for a little bit.”

Steve turned on the TV and they both settled in. Billy didn’t say anything when the TV turned on the HGTV, clearly the last thing that had been watched, despite his not having been there in ages. He didn’t say anything, but if the quiet huff of a laugh was any indicator, he definitely noticed. 

  
  


They had an early practice the next morning and a home game that night. Even just at practice, Steve could tell that he and Billy were clicking better than they had been since coming back from the break. Their chemistry continued that night and they connected for a goal when Billy scored off Steve’s assist. 

Billy pumped his fist in the air as the goal horn blared and the home crowd screamed around them. Steve slammed into him and wrapped his arms around Billy’s waist and they screamed at each other in excitement. They were both sweaty and disheveled, but Billy’s eyes were bright and as they stared at each other, grinning, Steve felt like he was on top of the world. 

Their visors were pressed against each other, their faces as close as they could get. It was almost like, if their visors weren’t in the way, they’d be able to get even closer. Like when Billy had kissed him. And when he’d kissed Billy. 

Bows slammed into the both of them, knocking them apart and they skated down the bench for high fives. Steve shook himself as they lined up for the faceoff. He couldn’t have himself getting distracted.

Billy’s goal had put them up 3-2 and they managed to hold onto that lead until the end. After the all star break, they’d entered the unofficial second half of the season. They mostly avoided mentioning the playoffs, not wanting to jinx anything, but every point counted. They were third in their division, but there was still plenty of time for that to change. They couldn’t get complacent. 

The locker room was rowdy after the game, but no one went out. It was the middle of the week and they needed to stay well rested and in good shape. Steve went home that night and went to bed feeling happy and hopeful.

  
  


He met Robin the next day for lunch after practice. She’d texted him a few days prior complaining that they hadn’t seen each other in ages. She was right, so Steve had readily agreed. 

They met at a cafe near her place, somewhere low-key and comfortable. They ordered their food and settled down on comfy armchairs with a low table between them. 

“You look tired,” was the first thing Robin said to him after they sat down.

“Thanks,” Steve said sarcastically, “don’t you have midterms coming up? You’re not gonna look any better than me.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I have a bunch next week. This is the last bit of socializing I’m doing before I go on complete lockdown.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna do fine. You always do.”

“I always do because every semester I shut myself off from human contact during midterms and finals, so I have nothing to think about but studying.”

“That seems a little obsessive.”

“More obsessive than practicing everyday and playing 82 games a season?”

“More than 82, if things go well.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “Point taken,” he said, sheepishly.

“And how is hockey going?” she asked.

“Hockey’s good. We’re doing well.”

“That’s all? Really?”

“I know you don’t really care about the details.”

“Maybe not, but I’d still listen, if you wanted to tell me.”

He appreciated that and he told her so, but continued, “I’ll spare you. For now.”

“Okay. So, what else is new?”

“Not much, I don’t have time for much else, really. Although,” he picked at a loose thread on his chair, “I do have a question for you.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Do you remember, back in the day, when I told you I had a thing for you?”

“Back in the day? You mean 3 years ago? Yeah, I remember. And then I told you that I’m very much a lesbian.”

“You did. My question is, when that happened, did I ever make you uncomfortable?”

She looked at him, confused, “No. You were actually really cool about it. I was nervous, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“And afterwards? When we were hanging out and stuff, was it ever weird for you, knowing that I’d been into you?”

“Not really, no. Like I said, you never did anything.”

“It’s not even about doing anything, but just knowing that I had those feelings never made you feel weird?”

“No. Why are you asking? This was ages ago and you got over it.” She narrowed her eyes at him, “You  _ did _ get over it, right?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

“Then where’s this coming from?”

“Recently,” he began, “a friend of mine told me that they had feelings for me. And I don’t feel the same. We’re friends, but that’s it. And we’ve talked about it and everything’s fine. But I just keep thinking about it whenever they’re around. And I don’t really know what to do.”

She looked at him for a moment, considering, “Do I know this friend of yours?”

“Uh, kind of.”

“Because I know it wasn’t me. And I’m betting it wasn’t Dustin. And you don’t hang out with anyone else that often. Except for-” 

She cut herself off, eyes going wide. She dropped her hands to the tabletop so hard it rattled their plates, “No way.”

The tables nearest to them had heard her and were sending curious glances their way. He hoped no one there was a fan.

“Robin,” he said, a note of warning in his voice.

“Is it someone from  _ your team?” _ she hissed. At least she’d lowered her voice. 

He glanced around at the surrounding tables, making sure no one was listening in. He nodded.

She laughed in disbelief, “Holy shit. I did not see that one coming.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? I appeal to people across the spectrum.”

“What happened? He just told you?”

“He got drunk and, uh, accidentally let it slip. We talked it out after, when we were sober. And I don’t care. I’m not mad or anything. I just,” he sighed, “I don’t know. That’s why I asked. Everytime I see him I feel awkward. I want things to go back to normal, but I can’t.”

“I don’t really know what to tell you, Steve. I’d like to think this isn’t a homophobic thing,” she narrowed his eyes at him.

“What? No, of course not. You know me better than that.”

She shrugged, “You wouldn’t be the first straight guy to be okay with lesbians, but have a problem with a guy being into you.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, letting a whine slip into his voice, “that’s why I asked, but you’re being no help.”

“Sorry.”

“Let’s talk about something else. I clearly need to figure this out on my own. Tell me more about school.”

She sighed, but indulged him. They let the subject drop and she started a long story about the woes of group projects in an online class.

  
  
  
  


They had another home game the day after. It was a disappointing loss, but they didn’t have time to mope before they were on the plane and heading north. They won three of the four games on the road, dropping the second, but still able to return home after two wins in a row. 

Their first day back home, there was no practice, only optional skate. Steve chose to give himself the day off and when he woke that morning, he drifted leisurely in and out of sleep, taking his time before finally getting out of bed. He made himself breakfast and scrolled through his phone while sitting at his table.

He wanted to go and do something, get out of his apartment. It was a nice day, for the middle of February, and he didn’t want to stay by himself. 

He knew Robin was in the middle of her midterm lockdown, so he didn’t even bother trying to text her. Dustin was back at school and probably also in the middle of midterms. He had other, casual acquaintances in the city, but no one he felt like hanging out with. 

He decided to text Billy, to see if he was free. Because they were friends and friends hung out. And Steve was being completely normal about it.

While Steve was sitting there munching on his eggs and thinking about how completely normal he was being, Billy texted back.

_ Yeah im not doing anything _

_ Todays probably not a good day to go out to eat, but you can come over  _

Steve texted him back to let him know he’d head over in the afternoon. He didn’t know what Billy meant about it not being a good day to eat, but he didn’t wonder too much about it. Maybe he was just tired, or didn’t feel well. He finished his breakfast and got dressed, not giving it any more thought. 

  
  


Billy lived in a nice, but nondescript building. The doorman waved him up after he gave his name and he followed Billy’s directions up to the proper apartment. He wasn’t sure what to expect. He’d never been to Billy’s place before. They usually hung out at Steve’s or went somewhere else. 

The place was big, bigger than Steve’s apartment, but it was almost empty. The walls in the entryway were bare and Billy’s coat was alone on the rack. Steve hung his own up next to it and kicked off his shoes before following Billy down the hall.

The living room had a bit more personality. There was a large couch set up in front of an impressive entertainment system. There was a bookshelf against one wall, the bottom shelf of which was dedicated to vinyl records.

“Well, this is it,” he said, shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket.

“It’s nice,” Steve said, assuming that was the right thing to say.

Billy laughed, “It’s really not.”

Steve tried to argue, but Billy waved him off, dropping onto the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table, “You don’t have to lie. I know what it looks like.”

Steve followed him to the couch, “You never got around to finding a decorator?”

Billy shook his head, “I thought about it. But I don’t want someone else deciding what my place is gonna look like. I tried to do it myself, but it’s just me here, you know? I’ve got everything I need; I don’t know how to fill the rest of this space.”

“Why’d you get such a big place then?”

Billy shrugged, “Don’t really know, because I could, I guess. After I got traded here, I figured I’m in it for the long haul, so I should probably get a place to settle down. When I was younger, I’d always dreamed of having a big place all to myself. I realized after I’d unpacked all my shit that I’d never put much thought into what I was gonna fill it with.”

“I’m sure I can find you some shitty wall art, if you want.”

“That’s okay, I’ve seen your decor. You can keep it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Billy hummed, “What do you want to do? We can watch TV, put on a movie. Today’s probably not the best day to go out, but we can order something if you’re down for breaking the nutrition plan.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That today’s not a good day to go out.”

Billy looked at him like he was crazy, “Steve, it’s Valentine’s Day. Restaurants, movie theaters, places where people go out, they’re all gonna be packed.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day? Today?”

“Yeah, Steve, did you forget?”

“I knew it was coming up,” he defended himself. He didn’t live under a rock, he’d noticed the decorations that had been appearing in stores for weeks, but, “I guess I lost track of the days. It’s not like I had plans.”

Billy huffed a laugh, “Yeah, we’re both killing it in that department.”

Steve kicked his feet up onto the table, next to Billy, “It’s whatever, relationships are overrated anyway.”

Billy looked over at him, “You really think so?”

“Yeah, man. For us? Definitely. Think about it: hockey’s always gonna come first and we’re traveling all the time and if it’s not a game it’s practice or training or media or some other shit. And someone might say they’re okay with that, they might even believe it,” he sighed heavily, “but it doesn’t work.”

He fell silent and flicked his eyes over to Billy who was still staring at him. Their eyes met for a second before Billy started laughing.

“Did I just unlock part of your tragic backstory?”

“What? No.”

“You sure? Because it feels like I did. Who hurt you, Stevie?”

He sighed, “I dated this girl in high school. We broke up after I got drafted. We knew it would be different, but we didn’t guess how different. I was super busy, she was going into her senior year, getting ready to go away for school.”

“And it fell apart?”

“Yeah, something like that. And I don’t blame her because I was kind of an asshole back then. Actually, scratch that, I was definitely an asshole.” Steve shrugged. He’d been devastated when it had happened, but now it felt so long ago. “But it is what is and I haven’t been to hold down anything serious since then. We’re actually still friends. All three of us; me, her, and the guy she left me for.”

“Damn, you’re more forgiving than I would have been.”

“You’re not the type to stay friends with your exes? That doesn’t actually surprise me.”

“I don’t have any exes. But I can’t imagine I’d be too friendly with them after, no.”

“Seriously? None?”

“Not unless you count random hook ups as exes. Is that really that shocking? Who do you think I’ve been dating?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I just figured everyone dated.”

“Probably a lot easier for you,” Billy mumbled under his breath.

“Yeah, probably,” Steve said, unsure of what else to say. The silence hung heavily over them until Billy spoke again.

“I think about it sometimes.”

“What?”

“Coming out. Publicly. It would probably make dating a lot easier,” he let out a sharp laugh, “would a lot of other things worse.”

“You really think it would be that bad?”

“Steve, people pitch a fit about rainbow tape. Could you even imagine if it was more than just a hypothetical? If there was actually an openly gay player?” 

He shook his head, “And the team, they’re all nice to me now, but you never know. Hockey’s for everyone until you’re showering with a gay guy. Even if they say they’re fine with it, it would change things.”

He huffed loudly before standing, “I need a drink. You want anything?”

“Whatever you’re getting.” 

Billy nodded and headed off to the kitchen. Steve couldn’t see him, but he heard a fridge door open and the clank of glass bottles. Steve thought about what Billy had told him. He wanted to offer some support, but he didn’t think it would help. Billy’s pessimistic outlook was depressing, but it wasn’t wrong. 

He came back and handed Steve a tumbler with two fingers of a dark amber liquid and ice. Steve took a sip, “Whiskey?”

Billy nodded, “It’s a classy kind of drunk.” He took a long sip from his own glass before continuing, “And I’m sorry, for unloading on you like that.”

“It’s okay, that’s what friends are for.”

“I guess. I just don’t talk about it often, dating, relationships, being gay in the NHL.”

“Who else knows? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“My sister,” Billy answered. Steve waited for him to continue, but he didn’t name anyone else.

“Is that it?” he asked, disbelieving. 

Billy nodded, “My dad always suspected, but I was always too smart to give that bastard any real proof. Not like that mattered,” he muttered darkly. He finished what was left in his glass in two big swallows, “Hockey always made it easy to explain away the bruises, so it’s not like he needed to be careful. Fuck it,” he said, standing up, “I’m getting the bottle.” And before Steve could say anything else, he went back to the kitchen to do just that. 

He returned and refilled his glass, as well as topping off Steve’s even though he’d only taken one sip. He knocked their full glasses together.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They both took a sip and Billy kicked his feet back up onto the coffee table.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Billy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not super into hockey and didn't get the line about rainbow tape, [here you go](http://twitter.com/NYRangers/status/1235719388650713089) , it's tape the players use to wrap their sticks to help with grip. It's usually black or white, but on pride nights (like that photo), some players use rainbow tape. 
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	9. Chapter 9

After Valentine’s Day, things between Billy and Steve went back to normal. They hung out together, joked around like friends, and played well together on the ice. The team was doing well and everyone was happy. 

But.

But Steve still felt like something had changed. He and Billy never mentioned the kiss _ -kisses- _ but it wasn’t like they’d forgotten. Steve definitely hadn’t forgotten. He’d thought about what Robin had said and he didn’t think he was being homophobic. It wasn’t that Billy was a guy, but that they were friends. They were friends who had kissed because one of those friends had feelings for the other. Steve didn’t think that being a little preoccupied by that made him homophobic. 

And it wasn’t like he was thinking about it all the time. Just sometimes. When it was relevant. Like when Billy pressed against him during a goal celebration, face bright and eyes blazing. Or when they were out with the team and Steve watched Billy flirt with a woman. Or women. He’d laugh with them, run his fingers through their hair, buy them drinks, and somehow always wind up back at the table with the guys. Steve wondered if anyone else ever noticed. If anyone else paid that much attention. 

He thought about it when they were sitting on one of their couches, the TV playing in the background, Billy paying attention while Steve was lost in thought. 

Sometimes Billy would notice him spacing out. He’d prod him in the leg from the far end of the couch and when Steve looked up, he rarely said anything, but he’d usually raise his eyebrows in question. Steve didn’t know how to answer him, so he’d usually just turn back to the TV.

It was fine. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Ironically, it all came to a head on pride night. It was early March and the season was heating up. They’d clawed their way up to second in their division and they had the playoffs firmly in their view, but they couldn’t get complacent. 

They were in the locker room getting ready for warmups. Like most of the players on the team, Steve had swapped out his normal tape for rainbow. It was a small change and as Steve taped the blade of his stick, he wondered how much of a difference it really made. Did one night of turning everything rainbow really change anything? Or was it just a sad attempt by a deeply homophobic culture to save face amongst more progressive fans, while not alienating the more conservative ones?

Steve looked around the room and saw a couple of guys wrapping their sticks in their usual white tape. He looked away in anger. Even tape was too much for some people. 

Steve consoled himself with the fact that all of his closest friends on the team were using rainbow tape. Billy had done so without comment and he wasn’t behaving any differently than normal. 

Steve had been unable to keep himself from watching him all day. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected, but he’d assumed having gay pride on everyone’s mind would have some kind of effect on him. But he’d been wrong. There was no noticeable change in his behavior, no sudden closed off-ness or anger or sadness. 

And it made sense. Steve was sure LA had pride nights too and You Can Play popped up often enough that it wasn’t like this was the first time hockey and LGBT activism had crossed paths. He’d probably learned to keep his feelings on the matter well contained. 

Steve, apparently, still needed some practice doing the same. 

After warmups, they all returned to the locker room. Last minute equipment checks were done and the rainbow tape was replaced with their usual stuff before taking the ice for the first period. 

The locker room was loud with many overlapping conversations and Steve was trying to tune most of them out while he prepared himself. 

“I just don’t see the point,” one voice rang out above the rest, “if they really wanted equality, they wouldn’t need this special treatment. There's no straight pride night.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Steve found himself saying. 

“No, I’m not kidding,” came the reply, “you really think gays deserve a night all for themselves?”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve said, “professional sports are horrible for gay people, so yeah, I think they deserve some special attention.”

“Whatever, I don’t need to use some special fucking tape. If they want to play like the rest of us, they can work hard for it like the rest of us.”

Other conversations in the room had died down and Steve knew he was the center of attention. That hadn’t been his intention and he didn’t want to have a public argument, but he also couldn’t stand by and let things like that be said. 

“You really think it’s that simple?” Steve asked, “the whole culture around professional sports is so homophobic and so awful for everyone who doesn’t fit into a very specific set of values-”

“Okay,” Sasha cut in, gently pushing Steve back down into his stall, “that’s enough. Both of you,” sent a dark look over his shoulder. 

Steve settled back into his own stall, but he could feel his temper simmering beneath the surface. Sasha put a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to say directly in his ear, “It’s not worth it. Settle in, get ready, we’ll deal with him later.”

“You’re really gonna let him say that?” He hissed.

Sasha narrowed his eyes, “We’re not letting him do anything. We’re choosing not to do this  _ right now.” _

Steve nodded, but his lips were still turned down. Slowly, conversation picked back up around him, but not at its previous volume. Steve’s eyes flicked around the room. Most of the guys were avoiding looking at him, but Billy was staring at him, eyes narrowed. He didn’t look happy. 

Steve dropped his gaze to the floor. He finished getting ready and followed the rest of the team out onto the ice when the time came. 

Maybe it was because he was mad, but Steve played like someone had lit a fire beneath his skates. He knew he was being more aggressive than usual, but it was working, so he wasn’t about to pull himself back. 

Late in the first, he got in a shouting match with a member of the opposing team and they had to be separated by the linesmen and other teammates pulling them apart.

Steve let himself be dragged backwards by Billy, still simmering. 

“Cool it,” Billy muttered in his ear.

“Really? You’re telling me to calm down?”

Billy raised an amused eyebrow, “Leave the fighting to the professionals, pretty boy. You really want to get under their skin? Score a goal.” 

Steve grunted in response and shoved Billy’s hands off him, glaring at the other team’s bench as he skated back to his own. 

He did score on his first shift out during the second period. Billy skated up behind him. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle and asked “Feel better now?” Steve just grinned in response.

As he skated down the bench getting high fives, he felt like he was proving a point, though he wasn’t sure what.

His goal put them up 2-1 and he skated off from his shift feeling satisfied. That feeling disappeared later in the second when the other team tied it up while he was on the bench. 

They started the third still tied 2-2. Try as he might, Steve couldn’t get the puck to find the back of the net again. He was on the bench when the Wraiths’ top line scored again, putting them back in the lead. 

They managed to hang onto their lead for the rest of the third and the mood was positive as they headed back to the locker room. Steve was still in a weird mood. He was angry about what had happened before the game and, though he’d never admit it, he selfishly had wanted to have the game winning goal. 

He stripped down in his stall and waved off any invites to go out. He tried to hide his bad mood, claiming tiredness, but it must not have been convincing. As he was getting dressed after his shower, Billy appeared in front of him wrapped in a towel, hair dripping down his shoulders.

“I’m coming over,” he said, clearly not asking. Steve was tired and cranky and wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed. He considered telling Billy to fuck off and leave him alone, but he already knew that was an argument he didn’t want to have. And one he’d probably lose.

Sighing, he agreed, “Okay.”

Billy watched him for another moment before nodding and wandering back to his own stall to get dressed.

Steve was out before him and got home in good time. He had about twenty minutes to himself to decompress before he got a text:

_ Open up _

Rolling his eyes at Billy’s abysmal manners, he went down the hall to open the front door.

“You know,” he said, stepping aside to let Billy in, “most people would just say ‘here.’ Or they’d knock. They might even ask to come over instead of just inviting themselves.”

“Well,” Billy said, stripping off his coat and kicking his boots into place next to Steve’s sneakers, “it’s a good thing I’m not most people.” He walked into Steve’s kitchen and pulled two bottles of beer out of the fridge. Before Steve could say anything, he’d pulled the bottle opener out of its drawer. 

Steve accepted the bottle he was handed and wondered when Billy had become so comfortable in his place.

“So,” Billy began, “you wanna tell me what that was all about?”

“What what was all about?”

“In the locker room. Why you decided that five minutes before a game was the right time to start a crusade.”

“It wasn’t a crusade! You heard what he was saying, he doesn’t get to do that and think it’s okay. You can’t tell me that shit doesn’t make you furious.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel. I learned early on to lock that shit down because it’s safer to keep your mouth shut than to draw attention to yourself. What matters is what’s best for the team, so if you think you’re fighting in my honor, or something, don’t.”

“It wasn’t about you,” Steve said, which was only partially true. He believed everything he’d said and he’d felt the exact same before he knew Billy was gay, but knowing that a teammate, and a good friend, was gay had definitely made it more personal. “It’s about him being a piece of shit and thinking he can get away with it.”

“Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I’m not an awful person? Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Kind of,” Billy crossed his arms.

“Well, that’s your problem,” he took a long sip of his beer and leaned against the counter, “I don’t want to hear that shit, so if someone says something like that in front me, I’m gonna call them out.”

Billy watched him, but didn’t say anything. As Steve went to take another sip, he finally spoke up.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Steve almost choked on his beer, “What?” he sputtered out. 

“In Miami. At the hotel. We already know why I kissed you, but in all of this, we never talked about why you kissed me, stone-cold sober.”

Steve sputtered, trying to find an appropriate reply, but his mind was blanking. He’d been avoiding thinking about that very question, because he didn’t have an answer. Billy watched him struggle, eyebrows raised.

“Just because I don’t like homophobes, doesn’t mean that I’m, that I-,”

“You can be straight and be an ally. But, in my experience, most straight guys don’t kiss their male friends.”

Steve didn’t have a rebuttal for that. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it again when no words came to him. They stared at each other from across the kitchen and Steve was extremely aware of the condensation on the bottle in his fist. For an absurd moment, he was afraid it would slip right through his fingers and shatter on the floor. 

“So?” Billy asked.

“So what?”

“You still haven’t answered. Why did you kiss me?”

Steve put the bottle on the counter behind him so he could scrub his face with his hands. He should have just told Billy not to come. Or he never should have opened the door. He should have been asleep, comfortable and dreaming. Instead, he was exhausted and sore, standing in his kitchen trying to find a good reason for why he’d kissed his friend.

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I don’t. I was just sitting there, and you were right there. And you had a thing for me. And I thought about you wanting me right then and, and, I don’t know,” he threw his hands up, “I wanted to, I guess.”

“Have.”

“What?”

“You said that I  _ had _ a thing for you. Past tense. But that’s not right, I have a thing for you. Present tense.” Billy took another sip and set the empty bottle down, “Sorry,” he said with a shrug. 

“Don’t apologize,” Steve forced out, feeling like he was choking. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not about that.”

“You know,” Billy said, taking a step closer, “most straight guys would be pissed if a gay guy kissed them,” he waved off Steve’s interruption continued moving closer. “The more open-minded might laugh it off, or just move on like it’s nothing. But you know what a straight guy wouldn’t do?” He stopped a foot from Steve, who felt like he was trapped, “he wouldn’t kiss back. Wouldn’t do it again on his own. So tell me, why did you?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answered.

“You sure?” Billy took another step forward, closing the remaining distance between them. One of his big hands came up to cup Steve’s jaw. His skin was hot and Steve was surprised to notice that his palm was sweaty. It made him feel better that Billy was nervous too. 

Their faces were close, as close as they’d been at that club. Steve could feel his blood surging, like he was gearing up for a fight. Only, he wasn’t angry, or scared. He was feeling a lot, but he couldn’t put a name on any of it. 

They’d been standing together, silent, for at least a full minute. Steve felt like he was frozen. Billy gently stroked his thumb against Steve’s cheek before dropping his eyes to the floor. He went to pull away and Steve panicked. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew he didn’t want Billy to go. 

He grabbed a fistful of Billy’s shirt. Billy’s lips parted in surprise and their eyes met for a second. 

It wasn’t clear who moved or if they met in the middle. All Steve knew was that one second he was staring into Billy’s shocked eyes, full of uncertainty and disbelief himself, and the next, they were kissing. 

It was as intense as the first two times and this time, Steve didn’t feel the need to pull away. He was still confused, but he knew that he wanted this. He moved his hand not tangled in Billy’s shirt up to his jaw so he could pull him closer, tilt his head and deepen the kiss. 

Billy didn’t fight it. He let himself be moved and pressed closer until the counter digging into Steve’s back was almost painful.

They finally broke apart, both breathing heavy. Carefully, they untangled their hands from each others’ clothes and hair. 

“So, that was,” Steve trailed off.

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other for another moment, both unsure what to do next. Finally, Billy broke the silence,

“Should I go? It’s late.”

Steve shook his head, “You can stay. I mean, you don’t have to, we don’t have to, that is-the guest room is made up and-and you should stay,” he forced himself to stop talking. Once upon a time, he remembered being smooth and charming. Billy Hargrove was apparently great at messing with him in more ways than he’d originally thought. 

“I’ll stay,” Billy said, “in the guest room.”

“Okay, great,” he said, nonsensically and led Billy down the hall to the guest room. “I’ll grab you some clothes to sleep in,” he said and Billy nodded.

Steve dug a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he thought would fit from his dresser and went back to hand them over. 

“Thanks,” Billy said, taking the clothes.

“You’re welcome and, uh, goodnight.”

Billy leaned forward and planted a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. It was nowhere near as intense as their kiss in the kitchen, but Steve was still left breathless. 

“Goodnight,” Billy murmured against his lips before pulling away. He had a soft smile on his lips and Steve didn’t have a chance to say or do anything else before the door was shutting in his face. 

He wandered back to his room and finished getting ready for bed in a daze. As he settled down under the blankets, his mind was still buzzing with confusing thoughts and feelings. He closed his eyes and tried to silence his mind to get to sleep. Despite all the confusion in his head, there was also a growing warmth in his chest that he chose to focus on instead. 

  
  


He woke the next morning to his alarm blaring at him. He slapped at his phone until the sound turned off. He rubbed his eyes and swung his legs out of bed. He shuffled first to his en suite and then out to the kitchen. Billy was already sitting at the table looking at his phone, a mug of coffee sitting in front of him. 

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning. You’re up early,” Steve said, pouring some for himself.

Billy shrugged, “Old habit.”

Steve sat across from him and for a few minutes, they sat in silence, both sipping from their cups. Billy finished his first and rinsed out his mug in the sink before returning to his seat.

“So,” he said, “I think we need to talk.”

“We talk a lot,” Steve said.

Billy chuckled, “Well, the two of us have had a complicated relationship.”

“Yeah, we have. So,”

“So, last night. We know where I stand. I like you, but I don’t want to force myself on you-”

“You didn’t.”

“Okay. That’s good, but I still don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

Steve barely knew that himself, but he didn’t say that. “I,” Steve began, “think I like you. Like, romantically.”

Billy raised his eyebrows, “You think? Steve, do you even like guys?”

“No? Or, I never have before. But I like you. I like having you around and I like talking to you. And I have plenty of friends, but there’s something different about you. And I wasn’t sure what that meant, at first, but I know I like kissing you. And, I know I want to do it again. I guess the question now is where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? You like me, I like you.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do anything about it.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to?”

“That’s not the point. You know as well as I do that that’s a terrible idea.”

“I mean, maybe. But do you really think we can go back to acting like nothing’s changed between us?”

“I,” Billy took a deep inhale and let it out in a sigh, “I don’t know. But Steve, do you even understand what you’re talking about?”

“Of course I do.”

“Really? Think about it: what do you normally do when you’re with someone you like? Go on dates? In public? We can’t do that. Tell your friends about it? Can’t do that. Tell your  _ coworkers _ about it? Because we definitely can’t do that.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point. We couldn’t be openly romantic, but we already hang out together all the time. Would anyone really know the difference between us going out to lunch together or hanging out at one another’s place?”

“Why are you so determined?”

“Because I like you and you like me and I think it’s stupid to try and ignore that. And,” he continued, “I think we’ve already proven that trying to ignore it doesn’t work. And you clearly like me, so I don’t know why you’re so against it.”

“I,” Billy began before glancing at the time, “I need to get back to my place before we have to go to practice.” He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. 

“Seriously? You’re leaving? Practice isn’t for hours.”

“I know, okay? I need, I need time,” he said, sounding frustrated. “You’re right, that ignoring everything clearly doesn’t work, but it’s not, that doesn’t mean,” he paused for a moment, opening his hands, like he was imploring Steve to understand him. “I’ve managed to compartmentalize my life. There’s hockey and there’s my personal life and those don’t overlap. They can’t. It sucks, having to hide so much of myself,” he laughed darkly, “but I’ve gotten used to it. And this,” he gestured between the two of them, “would change everything. For both of us. And I don’t know if I can-”

“Hey,” Steve said, reaching out to take his hand, “I get it. It’s a lot and I’m scared too. But we don’t have to jump into anything serious right away.”

Billy squeezed his hand and nodded before gently pulling away, “I should still go. I need some time.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.”

Steve walked him to the door and stood with him as he pulled on his shoes and coat, “I’ll see you at practice.”

“Yeah.”

They stood staring at each other for another moment. Slowly, Steve leaned in, giving Billy plenty of time to back away if he wanted to. He didn’t.

Their kiss was slow and soft and Steve pulled away a moment later. “One for the road,” he mumbled against Billy’s lips. 

Billy pulled away, but he had a smile on his face, “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” he nudged him towards the door, “now, go. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

  
  


They saw each other a few hours later at practice. It was no different than all the other practices they’d had together. The ice was the same, the drills were the same, everyone around them was the same. But it felt impossibly different to Steve.

As much as it had pained him to admit it in the beginning, Billy Hargrove was good at hockey. He was fun to watch and as they’d become friends, it became easier for Steve to understand why he was so popular amongst fans. 

Watching him, he looked like a different person from the man who had been in Steve’s kitchen that morning. The nervousness, the tension, was all gone. He moved confidently on the ice, like it was more natural than walking. 

Steve had never been so insecure with himself that he couldn’t admit when another man was attractive, but acknowledging it in an abstract way and actually feeling something because of it were two very different things. Or so he was learning. 

Steve had never been attracted to a guy before, but watching Billy skate around and laugh, he couldn’t deny the feeling in his chest. And it was more than just liking how he looked. It was everything he knew about Billy, his personality, his sense of humor, his kindness that he hid behind a level of sarcasm. 

Steve knew him. Knew him pretty well, if he did say so. And he liked him. And it was definitely new and different and a little bit scary, but it was also exciting and he didn’t want to forget it or ignore it. 

They went their separate ways after practice and Steve didn’t hear from Billy again that night. He wasn’t worried. He’d promised Billy some time to think and he was more than willing to give it to him. 

They had a game the next night. They lost, but Steve was finding it hard to be upset when Billy had stayed next to him on the bench every time their line wasn’t out on the ice. He had kept his hand on Steve’s knee, down below the boards where no one was looking.

No words were exchanged about their personal issues, but the constant presence of Billy by his side, the press of him against Steve through their layers of pads was enough. 

There was no practice the next morning, only an optional skate. Steve was planning on going, but as he was setting his alarm, a message popped up from Billy. 

_ Hey you wanna come over tomorrow? _

Without hesitation, Steve texted back.

_ Yeah definitely _

_ What time? _

_ Whenever you wake up _

_ I just need to talk to you _

_ Okay ill be there _

Steve put his phone down and rolled over, deciding against going to skate. 

  
  


Entering Billy’s apartment the next morning, Steve felt nervous, but excited. Billy led him to the couch and had him sit. Billy remained standing and paced while he spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, “and I have some stuff I need to say. So, just listen, please.” Steve nodded and Billy took a deep inhale.

“I’m gay. Clearly, you know that already. And I’ve known for as long as I can remember, but I don’t say it outloud very often,” he ran a hand through his hair. Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen him this nervous. He continued, “Growing up, it wasn’t easy. And I love hockey and I’m damn good at it, but it just made things harder. And I’ve had to hide so much of myself and then,” he laughed, “you came along and you  _ hated  _ me and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He finally dropped next to Steve, “And it should have been hopeless but then you were kissing me back and now you’re saying you want me too,” he closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together, “and you are a dream come true, Stevie. And it’s terrifying, because I never thought I could actually have this,” he pulled back, just enough so they could look each other in the eye, “but I want you. And If you want me too, then that’s what matters. Everything else be damned.”

Steve didn’t say anything, but he pulled Billy’s face to his own so they were kissing again, pushing closer until Billy was leaning over him.

They separated finally, both breathing heavy.

“Billy Hargrove,” Steve said between breaths, “I had no idea you were such a romantic.”

Billy laughed, ducking his head down, “I don’t break it out for just anyone.”

“You better not.”

“Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’m all yours.”

“And I’m all yours.”

They spent the rest of the day wrapped up in each other, barely leaving the couch, choosing instead to remain pressed close together. It surprised Steve, how natural it felt. He’d never been interested in a man before, and he definitely hadn’t seen it coming, but it felt right. His shoulder tucked under Billy’s arm, their faces inches apart, it felt good.

  
  


They couldn’t hide away in Billy’s apartment forever. They spent the day together, hidden from the rest of the world, but soon after, practices and games resumed. They were crawling towards the end of March and the postseason was getting closer and closer. They hadn’t officially clinched their playoff spot yet, but with every win it was looking better and better. 

Steve and Billy stayed on the same line and their chemistry on the ice was unbelievable. Steve could hardly remember a time when they hadn’t liked each other, it seemed so far removed from the present, the way they went together so well. 

Their relationship off the ice grew like the most natural progression of all the time they’d already been spending together. They had limited free time, but that didn’t stop them. They’d already been hanging out on their own a lot and now, they were seeking each other out even more.

On the bench, they always wound up next to each other. When they were out with the team, they always managed to sit together, drunk and happy and pressed together. The rest of the team didn’t seem to notice any changes, which wasn’t that strange, hockey players were generally pretty tactile with each other, so Steve and Billy’s behavior wasn’t that out of the ordinary. Still, it did make Steve wonder just when everyone had gotten so used to seeing the two of them together. 

As much as they both loved their team, they also made sure to find time to spend together, just the two of them.

They were in a hotel in Vancouver and Steve was getting ready for bed. He had his bag open on the floor and he’d already changed into clothes to sleep. He was just putting his toothbrush down when there came a soft knock at his door. 

He opened it and was unsurprised to be greeted by a grinning Billy Hargrove. Billy quickly shoved his way in and shut the door behind him. Before Steve could get a greeting out, Billy was tangling a hand in his hair and pulling their faces together. Steve let himself be pulled and smiled into the kiss, tugging Billy further into the room. 

His knees hit the back of the bed and he pulled Billy with him and he fell backwards. He pushed himself backward until he was comfortable lying on the bed and Billy was hovering over him. They finally separated and Billy gazed down at him, eyes dark.

“Hey.”

“Hey there,” Steve laughed, running a hand through Billy’s hair, “someone’s a little eager, huh?”

Billy groaned and moved his lips down to Steve’s neck, “You have no idea, Stevie. You always look so damn good and somehow I’ve gotta keep my hands to myself.” He moved further down Steve’s neck, his hands pushing up under the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt. 

Steve gasped and tangled a hand in Billy’s hair, tugging him away gently, “No marks,” he forced out, “can’t have questions.”

“Mmh,” Billy hummed against his neck, “then maybe I should move where no one will be looking? How’s that sound?” He didn’t wait for an answer, giving one last suck to the skin of Steve’s neck before moving down. He pushed Steve’s shirt up even farther and kissed his way down Steve’s chest and abs.

There was no hiding the erection tenting his sweats and Steve was beyond being self-conscious about it. He pushed his hips up and Billy looked up at him smirking, 

“You need something, Stevie?” he asked, running a hand over the front of Steve’s pants. 

“C’mon, baby,” Steve groaned, “you know where I want you.” He untangled his hand from Billy’s hair to gently stroke his cheek, running his thumb over his lips. Billy opened his mouth, running his tongue over the pad of Steve’s thumb. 

With a final lick, Billy pulled back so Steve’s thumb fell from his mouth and he was able to work Steve’s sweats down to his knees. As soon as they were out of the way, Billy dove back down and took Steve’s cock in his mouth.

Steve bit his lip to hold back a load groan. One hand went back to Billy’s hair and the other gripped the sheets by his hip. He risked a glance down and Billy, who met his eyes, winked and then pulled off his cock, making sure to run his tongue along the underside the whole way.

He pumped it in his fist a few times, running the head over his lips. Steve watched him then threw his head back with a groan as Billy laved over the head.

“Fuck, Billy, baby, please.”

“Aw, Steve, just because you asked so nicely.”

He dropped down, taking Steve back in his mouth, bobbing up and down while his hand worked around the base. His other hand wandered up Steve’s chest, skimming back and forth over his flushed skin. 

He lasted another few minutes before he was tugging at Billy’s hair, trying to pull him off, “Billy, fuck, Billy, I’m gonna come.”

Billy’s eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s for a second and he raised an eyebrow before turning his attention back to Steve’s cock. He pushed his lips even further down and with a gasp, Steve came down his throat. 

Billy pulled off with a wet pop and climbed up over Steve to recapture his lips. Steve kissed him back and it was sloppy, as they were both still panting. It took Steve a minute to notice that Billy had shoved a hand down the front of his own pants and was jacking himself off.

“Let me, let me,” he panted against Billy’s lips and Billy offered no complaints as Steve slid a hand down between the two of them to take him in hand. It was only a few moments later that Billy tensed up as his cock spurted across Steve’s abs. 

He rolled off of Steve and the two of them lay next to each other for a few minutes before Steve sat up.

“We should probably clean up.”

Billy gently pressed him back to the bed and swung his legs over the side, ‘I’ve got it.”

He came back with a damp washcloth from the bathroom and wiped down Steve’s chest and then leaned in to kiss him again. Steve tried to pull him back into the bed, but Billy pulled away.

“I’ve gotta get back to my room.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I definitely want to stay. Want is not the question,” Billy kissed him again before standing up straight, “but someone catching me coming out of your room tomorrow morning is too risky.”

Steve sighed unhappily, knowing he was right, “Okay. Then, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Stevie.”

The door clicked closed behind him and Steve rolled over to turn off the bedside lamp then shuffled down into his pillows. It wasn’t ideal, having to sneak around their teammates, but it was worth it.

  
  
  


They won their game in Vancouver and then won again their first game home. The following Sunday, the last one in March was their family skate. Dustin made the trip to Indianapolis from Hawkins and Steve took him and Robin over to the Wraiths’ practice facility. 

He and Billy hadn’t talked much about the upcoming family skate and Steve had been half expecting him not to show up. So he was surprised when he stepped out on the ice and saw Billy skating slow circles with a redheaded girl that Steve didn’t know. 

Billy looked up at him and nodded in hello, Steve returned the gesture, but his attention was quickly stolen by Robin digging her nails into his arm as they stepped out on the ice.

“I swear, Harrington, if you let me fall-”

“You’re gonna be fine,” he assured her, trying to gently tug her away from the wall. She went reluctantly, clinging on to him the whole time. Dustin skated a few feet in front of them, doing well enough on his own. 

They made a few laps talking with teammates and their families. Dustin got roped into tugging around some of the younger kids, so Steve and Robin were left on their own. They were leaning against the boards and for someone who couldn’t feel her grip on his arm, they probably looked quite casual. 

“Which one is it?” Robin asked, her eyes scanning the ice.

“Which one’s what?” he answered, confused. 

“Which one of your teammates has a crush on you? Most of them are here with wives or girlfriends, but I guess that doesn’t always mean-”

“I’m not telling you. It’s none of your business.”

“Okay, fine. But I still can’t believe it. I know hockey players aren’t known for their IQs, but still, picking you out of everyone else?”

“Watch it, Buckley, or I’m leaving you to fall on your ass.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Hey, Steve,” a new voice interrupted them, “and Robin,” Billy skated up to a stop in front of them, the still unidentified girl at his side.

“Hi Billy,” Steve said, trying to control the grin on his face.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Billy said to Robin, who just narrowed her eyes at him.

“I bet it is,” she said and Billy looked to Steve for help before shuffling awkwardly.

“Right, well, Steve, I wanted to introduce you to my sister.”

“I’m Max,” the girl, Max, said, sticking out her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Max. I’m Steve.”

“Oh, I know who you are. I’ve heard loads about you,” she said, enjoyment clear on her face. Billy nudged her in the side, but her grin only widened. 

“Oh, uh, okay.”

The four of them stood in awkward silence for a moment before Dustin crashed into the boards next to them.

“What’s everyone talking about over here?” he asked loudly. He didn’t wait for a reply before sticking his hand out towards Billy and Max, “I’m Dustin, Steve’s unofficial younger brother.”

Billy’s face lit up in recognition, but Max just looked confused.

“Hi,” she said, not taking his hand.

“Hi Dustin,” Billy said, shaking his hand, “I’m-”

“Billy Hargrove, left-wing, former LA King, and known goon,” he rattled off before releasing his hand.

“Looks like my reputation precedes me,” Billy said. Steve watched in real time as he turned on his public person. Gone was the familiar ease he had around Steve and his sister. Instead, he was back to playing the asshole Steve had hated for months. He understood, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed.

“It does, so if you wouldn’t mind bothering someone else-”

“Who’re we bothering?” Max interrupted, “because we were having a conversation before you came out of nowhere.”

“It’s funny how things can come out of nowhere, like a hit from behind and a season ending injury.”

“Okay!” Steve jumped in, “I’m sorry, can we have a minute?”

Max looked ready to argue back, but Billy tugged her away. As they skated off, Billy ducked down and said something to her that Steve couldn’t hear.

“What the hell was that?” Steve demanded, turning to face Dustin. 

“What? I’m just trying to stand up for you.”

“And I appreciate that, but you really don’t have to. He and I are fine, okay? We’re friends now. And I definitely don’t need you causing problems, especially at a team event.”

“But Steve-”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. If I can get over it, so can you.”

“I’m more interested in what he was telling his sister about you,” Robin cut in, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Yeah, Steve, what if he’s talking shit about you? Are you just gonna let him get away with that?”

“I don’t think that’s what it is,” Robin continued, “why would he do that? Like you said, you’re friends now.” She raised her eyebrows at him and Steve blinked once before looking away.

“Listen, it doesn’t matter what he’s telling his sister. I’m sure he talks about all of us, the same way I talk to you two. We’re friends and I trust that he’s not plotting my demise or whatever you’re worried about, Dustin. So, can we at least pretend to have fun?”

Robin latched back onto his arm, “Who’s pretending? I’m having a great time.”

The three of them skated off towards the rest of the families, Robin tottering at Steve’s right and Dustin skating on his left. He still looked annoyed, but at least he wasn’t complaining anymore. 

Steve scanned the crowd and quickly found Billy already looking at him. Steve smiled, trying to convey that everything was okay. Billy gave him a soft smile in return before turning back to his own conversation. 

Steve inwardly sighed before fixing his smile on his face and heading into the fray. 

  
  


Aside from the hiccup of Billy and Dustin’s meeting, the family skate was a success. Steve had a good time and so did Robin. Dustin eventually got over his moodiness and was able to have a good time too. The three of them said their goodbyes afterwards and that evening, while home alone, Steve texted Billy.

_ Hey do you wanna come over? _

He waited for a moment before receiving a reply.

_ Sorry cant, Max is staying the night tonight _

_ Sometime this week :) _

Steve sighed and tried not to be disappointed typing out a quick  _ no problem, goodnight <3 _ , before putting his phone down. 

  
  


Family skate was a fun distraction, but they quickly fell back into their regular routine. They had a grueling practice the next day and Steve left feeling sore and still damp from his shower.

He was walking from the locker room when he felt someone come up behind him and knock into his side. He turned to find Billy falling into step behind him. 

“Hey Stevie.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight? Spend some quality alone time together,” he grinned suggestively and Steve laughed and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I can come,” he paused for a moment before asking, “so, we’re good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“After family skate, I would have understood if you were annoyed.”

Billy just laughed, “No, I get it. Your friends are trying to defend you, I can respect that. Don’t know what the kid was planning on doing if I’d actually gotten mad though.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he really thought it through.”

“What, running up to a ‘known goon’ and insulting me to my face? Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“But it’s fine because you’re not just a goon-”

“Not  _ just _ a goon?”

“Well, I mean, you definitely are,” Steve said teasingly, “but you’re also a very kind and rational third line left-winger.”

“Thanks, Stevie. You sure know how to make a guy swoon.” He rolled his eyes, but he also put his arm around Steve’s shoulder as they walked out together, so Steve didn’t think he really minded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotional exposition, we love to see it
> 
> :)
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


	10. Chapter 10

They clinched their playoff spot after winning their first game in April. The celebration started in the locker room and there wasn’t even a question about going out that night. They had a break the day after and everyone was taking advantage of it. They met at a bar and the drinks started coming immediately. 

Before he knew it, Steve was feeling loose and happy and a little bit dizzy. The air around him was hot and everyone was laughing and celebrating. It was easy to get lost in the high spirits. He let himself be tugged to the dancefloor where several of them were all dancing in a large circle, causing a ruckus and drawing looks from the other patrons. 

Steve moved around in the crowd until he felt a familiar grip on his arm. He let Billy pull them together, moving face to face, unnoticeable in the mass of moving bodies.

“Having fun?” he asked.

Steve nodded, not bothering to yell over the music. 

“Enough fun that you don’t want to get out of here?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Steve glanced at the other guys all around them. They were all either too drunk or too absorbed in their own celebrations to be paying attention. Steve grabbed Billy’s hand and pulled him to the door, Billy’s laughter audible over the music. 

They stumbled out into the cool night air together, trying to stifle their laughter to avoid attracting undo attention. They managed to keep their hands off each other for the ride home, but the air in the car was so charged, Steve almost felt bad for the driver.

They practically ran through the lobby and as soon as the elevator doors closed, they were on each other. The ride up was short and they had to separate long enough to make it through Steve’s front door, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

Finally, the door shut behind them and they could put their hands on each other again. Jackets were discarded on the floor in the entryway and they kept shedding clothes as they pushed farther into the apartment. Steve almost tripped trying to kick off his shoes and Billy took the opportunity to catch him off balance. He took Steve, who was still tangled in his own shoes and pants, and threw him over his shoulder. 

Laughing, he ignored Steve’s protests as he headed to the bedroom where he threw Steve onto the bed. 

“Asshole,” he groused, pushing himself farther up the bed. Billy just laughed as he pulled his shirt off and crawled on top of Steve.

“I don’t think you mind,” he murmured before leaning down to recapture his lips. He braced himself on one forearm next to Steve’s head and reached his other hand between them to rub at the front of Steve’s boxers. They broke apart so Steve could moan and Billy panted against his cheek.

“Fuck, I love your cock,” he kissed at the hinge of Steve’s jaw, “have I told you that? I fucking love it.”

“You’ve, ah, mentioned it.”

“Mmm, good,” he slid a hand down the front of Steve’s boxers, taking him in his bare hand, “fuck, I want this in me.” He swallowed Steve’s groan as they kissed again, lips wet and slick.

“We can’t, you know we can’t.”

“I know. We’ve still got games to win and I can’t do that if you break me in half with your cock. But, I think we can get pretty close. You’ve got lube?”

“Nightstand. Top drawer.” Billy rolled off of him and Steve tried not to whine at the loss. Steve took the opportunity to pull his boxers off and toss them to the floor. Similarly, Billy shed the rest of his clothes before climbing back on the bed, lube in hand.

Billy laid down next to him, reaching a slick hand down to jack his cock. Once he was sufficiently lubricated, Billy rolled over onto his side, back to Steve. 

“C’mon,” he said, “between my legs.”

Steve pushed up behind him, wrapping an arm around Billy’s chest to pull them even closer as he guided his cock between Billy’s thighs. 

“Fuck, c’mon,” Billy panted, “fuck me like you mean it.” 

Steve complied, moving his hips faster, feeling Billy’s legs tense up around him, squeezing tighter. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he breathed into Billy’s ears. 

“This is nothing,” Billy gasped, reaching down to jerk his own cock, “when the season’s over, you’re gonna fuck me for real. I’m gonna, ah, stretch myself real good for you and then I’m gonna ride you ‘til you can’t fucking think anymore.”

Steve picked up his pace, forcing little gasps out Billy every time his hips made contact, the sound of slapping skin filling the room. Still, Billy kept talking.

“Fuck, I want you in me so bad. In just a few months, I swear, I’m gonna rock your fucking world.”

“A few months, huh?”

“Hell yeah. You're gonna open me up on this fucking bed on my fucking cup day. Fuck, fuck,” he panted as Steve started thrusting even harder, his hand speeding up to match the tempo. 

“Don’t fucking jinx us,” he hissed in Billy’s ears, feeling himself start to come apart. Billy didn’t respond, only panting out a litany of curses and Steve’s name. 

Billy came first with a final breathy  _ fuck _ and Steve followed a few moments later, spilling between his legs. He rolled over onto his back, spent cock sliding out from between Billy’s thighs. 

“Fuck,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Billy chuckled, reaching over the edge of the bed and grabbing someone’s discarded shirt to clean them up with. He did a half-hearted job, but Steve didn’t complain, because he didn’t feel like doing any better. Instead, they slid to the far side of the bed, away from the wet spots on the sheets, and curled up to go to sleep. 

  
  
  
  


The last week of the regular season finished in a blur. Their playoff spot was already secure, but they didn’t want to lose any momentum, pushing through to the very end. They won their last game of the season, the whole team skating out to center ice and raising their sticks to salute the arena. The fans cheered around them and Steve looked at the smiling faces on his teammates, sure that they were all as excited as he was. 

  
  


They had four days between the end of their regular season and the start of the first round. They took those days to rest, but also to practice. The regular season had been long and grueling, but playoffs were fast and intense and they had to balance recovery time with sufficient preparation. 

The day before their first game, they had an afternoon practice and afterwards, Billy and Steve both went back to Billy’s place where they lounged on his king sized bed. They were both tired, dozing off and on, not speaking, but enjoying each other's presence. 

They roused themselves only to share a quiet dinner on Billy’s couch and then curled up together afterwards to watch a movie. They were both struggling to keep their eyes open by the time the credits were rolling and they moved back to the bed. 

“Hey,” Billy said, as they were climbing under the covers, “we’re gonna kill it out there, you hear me?”

Steve smiled, “Of course we are.” Billy grinned back at him and they leaned forward to kiss, tangling their limbs together before falling asleep.

  
  


They played their first game at home and won. And the next one. After that, they were off to Minnesota. They won the first game there and the excitement in the locker room was tangible. 

The Wild, facing elimination, rallied and won the next game. Their chance for a sweep was ruined, but they headed back home still up 3-1. 

Game 5 at home was a mess. They were playing sloppy and their passes weren’t connecting. Billy spent most of the second period in the penalty box and Steve didn’t tally a single point. They finished an embarrassing 1-4 and got an earful in the locker room over it. 

Billy and Steve spent the night together in Steve’s apartment. They couldn’t do anything, they were both far too exhausted, but the disappointment was a little easier to bear, together. 

They rallied for game 6. When the buzzer rang at the end of the third period, they were up 3-1 and the arena screamed around them as they all poured out onto the ice. Steve and Billy found each other in the mess of their teammates, embracing and yelling in excitement.

They celebrated advancing back at Steve’s, making out in his bed and finishing each other off with sloppy hand jobs. They didn’t have the energy for anything else. 

They had a few days off as other teams played their game 7s and the match-ups for the second round were finalized. Steve and Billy tried to steal as much time together as they could, which mostly amounted to eating and sleeping together. 

Round two started towards the end of April and began with an away game in Nashville. They lost. 

And they lost again. 

They scraped out a 3-2 win in game 3 and an empty netter in the final seconds of game 4 secured another. They’d managed to tie the series 2-2, but they couldn’t catch their breath. Nashville pushed back in game 5 and shut them out. 

Game 6 was do or die and they played their hearts out, but it just wasn’t enough. The third period ended and the home crowd in Nashville cheered as the Wraiths skated off the ice, heads down, manfully ignoring each other’s sniffles. 

They returned home and Billy and Steve went back to their respective apartments, both understanding the need to wallow on their own. It was heartbreaking. Everything they’d been working for was lost. The season was over and their chances at the cup were gone for another year. They texted a bit, while they were separated, to make sure each other was okay, but they spent most of the time alone. 

They saw each other next at locker clean out. Most of the guys were in better spirits than when they’d last seen each other; clean shaven and well rested, able to joke and laugh and talk about their plans for the summer. 

As they were leaving, Billy walked up beside Steve, close enough that their arms brushed together. Steve ached to grab his hand, but knew he couldn’t, not with teammates and trainers and staff all around.

“Can I come over?” he asked, voice low.

“Of course you can,” Steve answered. He brushed their fingers together and he hoped Billy understood what he meant. 

When they got back to his place, Steve let them in and stood awkwardly in the entryway. Things felt heavy between them in a way that they hadn’t in a long time.

“So, what did you want to do?” he asked, trying to fill the silence, “we could grab something to eat or watch some TV, or-”

“Do you mind if I shower?” Billy asked.

“Oh,” Steve said, surprised, “no, that’s fine. Have at it, you know where everything is.”

Billy thanked him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before heading farther into the apartment. Steve collapsed onto the couch and kicked his feet up, groaning at their stiffness. He scrolled mindlessly on his phone as he heard the water start in the background. 

He stayed there, letting his mind wander, until he heard the gentle thrum of the shower turn off. A few moments later, there was the sound of a door clicking open and Billy walked into the living room in only a towel. His skin was damp and his hair was still dripping down his shoulders. 

He walked purposefully towards Steve on the couch, dropping down on top of him, his knees on either side of Steve’s hips. Before Steve could react, he leaned down and brought their lips together in a slow, gentle kiss. 

Steve propped himself up on his elbows, trying to bring them closer together, not caring about his clothes or his couch getting wet. Billy rocked their hips together and they finally broke their kiss so they could both moan.

Moving his hips again, Billy whispered against Steve’s lips, “Come to bed.” He sat back on his heels, and swung back over Steve’s hips. Steve let himself be tugged to his bedroom.

When the door shut behind them, Billy threw his towel to the floor and Steve couldn't resist embracing him again. As they kissed, he worked on undoing his own pants and shoving them and his boxers to the floor. They separated just long enough for Steve to pull his shirt off over his head and then Billy was guiding him back towards the bed. 

“Lay down,” he said, “on your back. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Steve did as he was told, unsure of what Billy was talking about. Billy climbed on top of him, kissing him again and rubbing their bare cocks together.

“Do you remember,” he asked, kissing his way down Steve’s neck, “what I told you when we first made the playoffs? What I said we were gonna do, when the season ended?”

“Fuck,” Steve moaned, “yeah, I do. But it’s not, fuck, it’s not your cup day. We lost.” It was hard to keep talking as Billy sucked a mark into his throat. 

“We did. But you and I are still here together. And I still want you. Fuck, Stevie, I want you so bad.” He pushed his cock into Steve’s abs, rubbing off against him, “I got a little, ah, impatient. I hope you don’t mind.”

“What’d you mean?” Steve asked, too distracted to follow whatever Billy was trying to tell him. 

“I got myself ready for you. In the shower, I fucked myself on my fingers, stretching myself open so I’d be ready to take your cock.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“And I’m ready and I want it so fucking bad.”

“Then come on, fuck, baby, where’s the lube?”

Billy laughed at his eagerness, but he complied and reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle and a condom that had been left there strategically. He tore the packet open and rolled it down onto Steve’s cock. He squeezed some of the lube out onto his fingers and slid back so he was straddling Steve’s thighs. 

His own cock was hard and leaking, but he ignored it in favor of wrapping his fist around Steve and getting him wet. When Steve’s cock was nice and lubed up, he brought his hand behind his back to give himself one final stretch.

Steve couldn’t see where his fingers were entering himself, but watching him do it, watching his face contort in pleasure and his dick twitch was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. 

Carefully, he pulled his fingers out and moved up so he was balanced on his knees, right over Steve’s cock. Taking him in hand, Billy slowly started to slide down. His mouth dropped open in a breathy gasp as the head popped in and Steve bit down on his lip as hard as he could, forcing himself to keep his hips still. 

Slowly, Billy worked his way down, rocking his hips gently and gasping and groaning the whole way. When he finally got all the way down, his eyes were screwed shut and his chest was heaving.

“Fuck, fuck, are you okay?” Steve gasped out.

Billy nodded, slowly starting to circle his hips, “Yeah, I’m good. It’s been a while, but fuck, it’s so good.”

He started moving more, picking his hips up and dropping down, going a little higher every time. Steve moved his hands to his waist, holding on as Billy set his own pace. He worked himself up until he could start increasing the speed of his hips. He leaned forward, bracing himself on Steve’s chest as he fucked himself on Steve’s cock. 

Steve squeezed his hips so hard that, if he was in his right mind, he would have worried about leaving bruises. He allowed himself to start thrusting his hips up and based on the sounds he was making, Billy didn’t mind. 

Steve took one of his hands from Billy’s hips to start jerking his cock. Billy moaned as Steve took him in hand and started tugging in time with their thrusts. He let his head fall forward rocking back and forth between Steve’s hand and the cock in his ass. 

His rhythm started to falter and Steve felt him tense up for a moment before he came across Steve’s chest with a stuttering moan. Steve forced himself to still as Billy caught his breath, but it felt like torture.

“Fuck, Billy, can I?”

Billy nodded, panting out “Go ahead,” and that was all Steve needed before he started thrusting his hips again, faster and faster. Billy just clung on for the ride, his fingers digging into Steve’s chest before Steve finally finished inside him with a loud moan. 

Billy collapsed on top of him and they lay there for a second before Billy pulled himself off Steve and collapsed with a groan next to him. 

“We should clean up,” Steve said, once he finally got his breath back.

“Hmm,” Billy hummed, nuzzling into his chest, “I’m not moving. That’s on you.”

“In a sec,” Steve said, wrapping an arm around Billy, “just need to rest for a minute.”

Billy didn’t answer. He just pulled them closer together and tangled their legs together. It felt nice, cuddling together and Steve let his eyes drift closed. He just needed to rest for a few minutes. Just a little while, then he’d be able to get up. Just a few minutes.

  
  


When they woke up, it was dark out and they were both sticky with dried sweat and cum. That was enough to force them out of bed and Billy claimed the shower first while Steve changed the sheets. Steve showered after him and then they both moved to the kitchen to find something to eat. 

They brought their plates out to the couch, getting comfortable and leaning against one another. They ate in silence for a little while before Steve asked the question that had been on his mind for a while.

“What’re your plans for the summer?”

Billy shrugged, “Nothing crazy. I’m heading home next week, planning on resting for a while.”

“Oh,” Steve fiddled with the fork in his hand, “how would you feel about me coming to visit?’

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You can come visit or, fuck it, we can go away together. Just the two of us. No teams, no fans, no friends or family or anything. Just us.”

“I like the sound of that,” Steve leaned over to kiss him. They kissed for a few seconds before breaking apart, both of them grinning. 

“I know,” Billy began, “that this season didn’t end the way we wanted it to, and I might sound selfish, but if given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“So, are you saying you don’t want to get fucked on your cup day?” Steve teased.

Billy laughed, “I definitely do. But there will be another season and another chance to win. And I’m okay with waiting a little longer, as long as I get to keep you.”

“You’re such as sap,” Steve said, grabbing their plates and throwing them to the coffee table so he could fling himself at Billy. Billy just laughed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Only for you, Stevie, only for you.” He shuffled them around, manhandling Steve until he was sitting back to chest between Billy’s legs while Billy leaned against the armrest. It was nice and comfortable and Steve let his eyes close, leaning back against Billy’s chest.

“We’re gonna do it though, right?”

“Hm?”

“Win. We’re gonna win?”

“Hell yeah we are. Me and you. We’re gonna lift the cup together.”

“Together? I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great.”

“I can’t wait.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! I know I had a lot of fun writing it and I'm super happy that I was finally able to share it. Believe it or not, I actually started writing this in August and between my last semester of school as well as just life kicking my ass, it took ages to finish, but it's finally all here. 
> 
> Thank you again!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://vgorodye.tumblr.com) !


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